


come back for me

by blurryfaced



Category: GOT7, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Foster Care, M/M, Urban Fantasy, Witches, basically got7 decide to take care of tiny lil children bts, but don't hold me to that, children bts, implied minor character death, in a world where witches and humans live together, lapslock, so this is predominantly happy, sue me this is fucking cute, um i had my go at writing something to help with stress, witches gotbang, wow even the names are enough tags shit, wtf else do i tag this as
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-09-22 23:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9629591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blurryfaced/pseuds/blurryfaced
Summary: when the first child arrives, jinyoung isn’t as prepared as he wants to be. he thinks that, when the others turn up, he might be a little more prepared. somehow, it isn't the case.





	1. youth

**Author's Note:**

> i have no excuse. gotbang are my biggest weakness, as well as witch!gotbang and foster care au. this will probably have very irregular updating points since i have my other witch au i need to update too?? but considering rn is the time where i need to be picking out my uni and stuff, this might get updated more often, idk.
> 
> this is also my first time writing bts boys so please be kind and take care of me, thank you.
> 
> —mack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no excuse. gotbang are my biggest weakness, as well as witch!gotbang and foster care au. this will probably have very irregular updating points since i have my other witch au i need to update too?? but considering rn is the time where i need to be picking out my uni and stuff, this might get updated more often, idk.
> 
> this is also my first time writing bts boys so please be kind and take care of me, thank you.
> 
> —mack

when the first child arrives, jinyoung isn’t as prepared as he wants to be.

there had been a call that morning from a social worker — the same woman that had been friendly to him throughout the whole process of becoming a foster parent — to let him know that there was a little boy who needed an emergency foster care. jinyoung had been a little flustered, feeling nerves start up in his ribs at the idea that it was finally happening after _six months_ of waiting, but he’d agreed with a smile and a quiet laugh.

the day after the phonecall had consisted of tidying up the rooms he had to offer the little boy, making sure each of them had a bed made and no dust on the desks or bookshelves. the toys were rearranged and heating put on an hour before the social worker, eunhui, said she’d be coming over. snacks were placed delicately on a plate and kept covered in the kitchen, ready to be placed on the coffee table.

jinyoung rubs at his face and fiddles with the jumper he’s wearing, tugging at it just a little too much. going into foster care had been a big decision for him after he had to be let go as a kindergarten teacher. working with the little kids had always been something he really enjoyed, watching them learn and make friends, reading to them and showing them how to write. it’d been a job he’d been hell-bent on doing for _years_ , so when he’d been told that, as one of the newest teachers, he needed to be let go due to financial instability, he felt his world take a turn.

jackson had been the one to suggest foster care, jaebum quickly butting in and backing up the idea whenever jinyoung had started questioning his ability to be a good father. although jinyoung was almost certain that jackson had said it as a joke, as if to prove that he could be around kids without being their teacher, jinyoung started thinking about it more often until it took mark’s easy-going smile and soft words to convince him that it was a good idea. so, he spent a week’s worth of hours doing research and finally — _finally_ — applied to become a foster parent.

he waited for a long time after they approved him for this moment, so forgive him if he’s a little nervous. he berates himself, fidgeting on the sofa as he stares without focusing at the tv. he’s been around kids for so long in his life, both due to family and because of his job, it doesn’t make sense for him to be this _nervous_. he’s just being silly.

but jackson promised he’d be there with him when the first child showed up but he’s _not_. he’s working and couldn’t get the time off, and jinyoung knows he shouldn’t be bitter but he is. because he’s that petty.

he glances at the clock again and feels his next heartbeat against his ribcage because it’s only been a _minute_ — getting to his feet, he walks into the kitchen and grabs the plate of snacks from before, uncovering it and taking it back to the coffee table. he chews absentmindedly as he keeps looking at the clock, fingers twitching to grab his phone and call mark, jaebum — hell, even yugyeom would do — to make sure that he can do this, and he’s not going to fuck up a kid’s life.

because that’s the last thing he wants to do.

he jumps when the doorbell rings, sounding loud and harsh against the quiet murmur of the tv. jinyoung takes a deep breath and smooths his hands down his chest, trying to keep himself calm. the last thing a foster kid needed was a nervous adult to feed off of and be around, when they were probably going to be shaken already. so he plasters a soft smile on his face when he opens the front door.

eunhui smiles back at him, eyes tired and drooping slightly, dark hair pulled back into a butterfly clip that is trying very hard to do its job and failing miserably. “hi, jinyoung-ah.”

“eunhui-noona,” he returns the greeting, unable to keep his eyes from drifting downwards. the sky’s darkening as evening slowly rolls over but it’s not dark enough for jinyoung to miss the small hand clasped in hers and the dark eyes staring up at him from a round face. the presence of the small boy already has jinyoung’s smile feeling a lot softer than it had been two seconds ago.

“I’m sorry this is so sudden, jinyoung-ah,” eunhui says with a deep breath, rolling her shoulders under her suit jacket, “but you’re the only witch available right now and I didn’t want to push taehyung into a home that he wouldn’t be happy in.”

he blinks and looks up at eunhui’s face with raised eyebrows, smile slowly slipping into a — still rather gentle — line. _taehyung._ “you came to me because I’m a witch?”

eunhui’s working her jaw and jinyoung shakes his head, moving out of the doorway to let the two of them in. the social worker stutters before he raises his eyebrows at her, gesturing inside with a hand. she sighs and looks down at taehyung, who’s gazing inside with the interest only a small child could have. jinyoung smiles again when he closes the door behind them.

“I got some snacks out in case you’re hungry,” he says to taehyung, suddenly overcome with the urge to ruffle the boy’s hair now that he can see him better. the boy’s skin is darker than his, face incredibly round but his eyes aren’t as wide as jinyoung would have thought. it doesn’t matter, though, because taehyung’s mouth is open a little bit, and he’s looking up at jinyoung as if he built his flat with his own hands.

“you’re a witch?” taehyung asks instead, tilting his head back so he can look up at jinyoung properly.

he blinks and crouches down enough so that he’s at eye-level with the kid, letting his smile grow to the point where it hints at the whisker-like wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. “yeah, I am.”

taehyung bounces a little on the balls of his feet. “you can do magic and stuff?”

jinyoung thinks for a moment, then pulls one of his sleeves up to reveal a tattooed forearm. “watch this,” he says and, more for show than for actual need, waves his hand over his arm, wiggling his fingers. taehyung’s rapt attention is on the ink and an audible gasp falls from his mouth when it begins to move and fidget along jinyoung’s skin.

“that’s so cool!” taehyung says, bouncing a little harder on the balls of his feet and reaching out tentatively to touch his arm. several sigils rippled under his touch as if they were sat on the surface of water and he yanks his hand back with another surprised gasp.

eunhui tugs on the kid’s hand, winning his attention. “why don’t you take your shoes off and go munch on the snacks jinyoung left out for you.”

taehyung nods. “okay!” he toes off his shoes and lets go of the social worker’s hand to nudge his shoes into a tidy corner. jinyoung stands to let taehyung pass, only now noticing the little backpack the kid has with him.

“they’re in the living room on the coffee table,” jinyoung says, pointing when taehyung turns to look at him. the boy gives him a grin — that’s adorable and box-like, and maybe, just maybe, has jinyoung’s heart fluttering — and prances into the living room. “he seems to be pretty upbeat for a first time foster kid.”

eunhui sighs for the second time that evening and shakes her head. the result is more loose strands around her face. jinyoung wonders if she should just take out the butterfly clip and call it a day. “well, the family he had weren’t overly attached to him and left him with babysitters or other relatives a lot. so this isn’t anything new for him.”

jinyoung frowns before he can help it and tugs his sleeve down. of course, he knew that becoming a foster parent he would be exposed to all kinds of child abuse, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t react to it at all. he looks away from the boy happily munching on some carrot sticks to eunhui’s face. “they weren’t overly attached?”

the woman crosses her arms, returning his gaze. “look, you’ll get an e-mail probably sometime over the next week or so, giving you all the information you need, but—” she shakes her head and, in the good lighting of his home, he can see the bags under her eyes and the weight she’s carrying on her shoulders more clearly. “he comes from a human family, but showed… tendencies since he was born. they weren’t exactly happy about having a child that wasn’t human, so they left him with other people, mostly. it wasn’t until parents from other children who were friends with taehyung started phoning in talking about the kid not eating enough and being at risk that we actually started looking into his life.”

the witch frowns ever deeper and glares down at his slippered shoes. he focuses on the soft brown that he bought specifically for these times where the person he was talking to did not deserve to be glared at like he wished they were dead. he takes a moment, ignoring the urge to imitate jaebum in an attempt to lighten the mood — eunhui had never met jaebum —, and raises his head. “okay. okay, so you wanted him here because I’m the only witch able to take care of him?”

“yes. the other’s wouldn’t have been— you know what discrimination is like,” eunhui murmurs, looking over her shoulder. jinyoung follows her gaze and the two of them spare a moment to observe taehyung sitting comfortably on the sofa, hugging his backpack to his chest, and eyes glued to the tv screen. “most of the witches we have don’t want to accept children who don’t have at least a little training or understanding in the world of magic, and human foster parents wouldn’t have any idea how to help him out.”

the witch sighs and drops his shoulders, shaking his head. “it’s over and done with now,” he says and gives her an encouraging smile. “he’s going to be fine with me. he’s already enamoured by my tattoos.”

“he’s going to love youngjae-ah and kunpimook-ah, too, I’m sure,” eunhui says with a grin of her own. “anyway,” she says in a louder tone, turning properly so she’s facing taehyung. the boy looks up, freezing where he is; a half-eaten cookie is held in his hand, one cheek full and jaw still, as if he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. jinyoung laughs, making taehyung chew once and offer a small smile.

“I’m going to go, little man,” eunhui announces, tilting her head a little. “can I get a hug goodbye?”

“okay!”

taehyung jumps up from the sofa, his backpack thudding down next to him and cookie still in his hand. he runs a little clumsily towards the social worker and smacks into her, forcing air out of her lungs audibly. jinyoung’s still smiling when eunhui hugs him back and pats the top of his head. he lets go and steps back, swallowing his mouthful and shoving the rest of his cookie into his mouth, chewing quickly and looking way too much like a rabbit for jinyoung’s heart to take.

“you’ve still got my number in case you come across anything you don’t like, right?” eunhui says and taehyung nods energetically. jinyoung feels a little something stir inside him but he knows it’s nothing to worry about. it’s just protocol. that’s all. she’s not accusing him of anything.

eunhui turns to him and gives him one last smile. “good evening, jinyoung-ah.”

“good evening, noona,” he returns and opens the door for her. both him and taehyung wave at her before she turns around and disappears into the lift. taking a small breath, jinyoung turns to look at taehyung and tries not to jump when he finds the kid is already looking at him. “so, you know, my name’s jinyoung, as noona said, but you can call me hyung, okay?” taehyung nods once, wiping the crumbs from his hands on his t-shirt. “do you want a tour of my flat?”

the little boy nods again and quickly darts into the flat again, standing mere feet away from the entrance and bouncing, once more, on the balls of his feet. jinyoung watches him in amusement as he closes the door behind him and locks it, leaving the keys on the side. he moves past taehyung, about to give a general description of his flat from what they can see here already, when he realises the boy only has socks on his feet.

“taehyung,” he asks with a raised eyebrow, slowly lifting his gaze from small feet to an open face. “don’t you have any slippers?”

“oh!” taehyung spins around on the floor and stumbles once more into the living room, grabbing his backpack and opening it with the care — or lack of care — that only a child can manage. soon, jinyoung hears the slap of slippers on the floor and looks down to find psyduck slippers staring back at him. taehyung grins wide at him, still adorable and boxy. “I’m ready!”

jinyoung offers him his hand and feels his smile grow involuntarily when a small hand grabs his fingers and happily follows him into the kitchen. “this is the kitchen, and although it isn’t super big, there’s lots of counter space to do cooking—”

“and baking!” taehyung exclaims, standing up on his toes so he can spy everything that’s set out on the counter.

the older witch laughs and shakes his head. “yes, and baking. maybe we can do some baking tomorrow, since it’s sunday?” he asks. a weird feeling spreads through his chest when he sees the awe reflecting in dark eyes.

“yes! okay!”

jinyoung leads him out of the kitchen gently. “the dining room and living room are merged together, so, if you’re good, I’ll let you have lunch on the sofa watching tv,” he says with an exaggerated wink, grinning wide, whiskers and all, when taehyung stands up straight and belts out a serious, “I’ll be good! I’ll be good!”

they move down the hall and the older witch gestures to the first door on the left. “this is my room. if you want to go in when I’m not inside, please ask permission, but if I’m inside and you need me, just knock on the door, okay?”

the child nods, eyes never straying on the door. jinyoung chews on his bottom lip in thought, before asking quietly, “would you like to take a quick look inside?”

taehyung blinks twice then looks up at him, face void of any awe and interest from before. “your room’s private. mummy always said not to go in her and daddy’s room because it was for grown-ups and not little kids.”

jinyoung curls his fingers until taehyung’s hand shifts in his and he can hold him properly. “okay. but this is my home, okay? and if you want to go in my room, you can, as long as you always ask permission first.” he pauses, letting his eyes move over the child’s face. “and I’ll do the same to you.”

the child stares at his door for a moment, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth in thought. there’s a worry in jinyoung’s mind where he thinks that maybe he’s gone too far, that maybe taehyung won’t be able to get used to the idea of being trusted with something like this, with going into a parent-like figure’s bedroom with permission—

“okay,” taehyung agrees with a smile.

jinyoung didn’t know he’d been holding his breath until it whooshes out of his lungs a second later. he shakes his head and then gestures to the rest of the doors in the hall, three of which are wide open and one pulled ajar. “these are the rest of the bedrooms and the bathroom. I didn’t know what type of bedroom you like, so I thought I’d let you choose. is that okay?”

taehyung’s smile widens until it’s all teeth and thin lips. jinyoung doesn’t expect a hug around his hips, small face pressed against his ribs. he doesn’t have much time to respond, watching in stunned silence as the boy trots over to each door, one hand on the doorframe and peering in almost comically. from where he’s standing, the older witch can’t see what he’s doing inside the room, most of his upper torso disappearing, but he stays where he is patiently, content to merely observe the boy.

taehyung points at the second room on the right, eyes widening and finger pointing inside. “can I have this one? the window’s so big!”

jinyoung smiles — and he makes sure to make it soft, and gentle, and non-threatening, not that that’s a challenge — and walks forward to join taehyung in the doorway. he’s mildly amused that the boy ignores the fact that the bedroom is the largest out of the three and solely focuses on the size of the window, but he supposes he can’t really blame taehyung, as he seems to get distracted by everything.

“of course you can,” he says and flicks the light on.

taehyung gasps when he sees the bedroom in the light, wandering inside and staring at the white walls and warm gradient bedding. he spins slowly in the middle of the room and tugs his bottom lip into his mouth yet again, a slight movement to his jaw making jinyoung wonder if maybe the boy has some kind of oral fixation or something.

he watches taehyung gaze at the window — or out the window, he’s not sure, as all he can see from the doorway is the back of the child’s head — and waits patiently for whatever is going through his mind now. maybe the lip sucking isn’t a nervous tick, or maybe it is. jinyoung wonders if he’s being overprotective too soon. are foster parents supposed to hang over their new foster kid so much on the first day?

“um, is it really okay if I have this room?”

jinyoung focuses back on the small boy, whose bottom lip is a little darker and shiny, whose fingers are fiddling with the hem of his jacket. he keeps darting his gaze from jinyoung’s face to just a little lower, or just a little to the side, or to something behind him, and the older witch asks himself if possibly the move from his home to foster care has finally settled into his bones.

“of course,” he says with the smoothest voice he can manage while still being loud enough for taehyung to hear him. “you can have any room you want here. and if you like the room with the big window, you can have the room with the big window. it isn’t a problem.”

taehyung stares at him again, teeth now worrying the inside of his cheek and canine occasionally snagging the corner of his mouth, most likely irritating his bottom lip further. jinyoung might need to look into oral fixation and ways to help ease the urge. the boy smiles at him again, the same smile from before, when they were standing outside jinyoung’s bedroom, and says, “okay.”

jinyoung nods and tries not to let his relief be too obvious on his face. “good. now, do you want to see the bathroom and then we’ll eat a few more snacks, watch some tv, and then go to bed?”

taehyung’s smile widens, transforming into the box-like shape that jinyoung is already associating with the boy, and he bounds over, grasping jinyoung’s hand without question. “okay!”

 

* * *

 

 

**wang gae [12:54]**

i’m so sorry i can’t be there!!!!  
i know i promised but i really can’t get  
away from work today  
boss says i’ve already taken too many  
days of work

**park gae [21:43]**

jackson  
are you still awake?

**wang gae [21:44]**

yes!!!!  
oh you’re not dead!!!!  
how’s the kid???? what’re they like???  
are they nice?????  
i demand photos!!!!!!

**park gae [21:44]**

what, why would you think I was  
dead?

**wang gae [21:44]**

i mean you seemed really stressed before  
so i just assumed that if it got too much then  
you’d combust or something

**park gae [21:45]**

is that really what you think of me?

**wang gae [21:45]**

no!!!!!  
but see i have faith in you!!!! i told you you’d  
be fine without me there  
and look!!!!!  
here you are texting me!!!  
so everything’s good

**park gae [21:46]**

I’ve told you nothing about what happened  
tonight and you’re already assuming it  
went okay

**wang gae [21:48]**

you didn’t start this conversation by screaming  
at me that you made a mistake or that you  
fucked up because the kid doesn’t like you  
so i’m willing to bet that it turned out pretty  
well

**park gae [21:49]**

it didn’t go too badly

**wang gae [21:49]**

see!!!!  
but no more distractions  
tell me about the kid!!!!

**park gae [21:50]**

well, he’s five years old, he’s called  
taehyung, he’s easily distracted by things  
and smiles a lot. he seems pretty okay with  
him being in foster care. he doesn’t really seem  
to understand that this is my house, so some rules  
from home that his parents gave him don’t apply  
here, but he’s learning.  
he’s picked out his room and seems happy to  
sleep there tonight. I put him to bed before I  
messaged you.  
and before you ask, no I don’t have  
a photo of him to send you.

**wang gae [21:51]**

he sounds so cute!!!! ic an’t wait to meet  
him  
can i come over tomorrow?????

**park gae [21:51]**

tomorrow? wouldn’t that be a bit  
too soon for him?

**wang gae [21:51]**

you said yourself that he seems pretty okay  
with the whole foster thing  
plus i’m over your house very often, so if he  
doesn’t meet me tomorrow he’ll probably  
meet me the day after or tuesday.

**park gae [21:52]**

I just don’t want to overwhelm him

** wang gae [21:53] **

i know you’re worried about not being good at  
this but look at your past job!!!! so many of the kids  
were upset because you were leaving, and  
every single one of them made you a personal card  
that you keep in a drawer in your bedroom after  
you decided having them around yoru house and on  
your fridge for a month was enough. you’ve loved  
taking care of little kids for so long i honestly  
don’t think you’re capable of fucking up taehyung’s  
life that abdly that he’d rather stay at his previous  
home despite whatever it was they were doing  
to him  
why was he put in foster care anyway?????

**park gae [21:59]**

thank you, jackson.  
hopefully I’ll feel better in the morning.  
and I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t  
come over tomorrow, but maybe wait until I let  
you know if taehyung is okay with it? he may not  
be up to meeting people tomorrow. we’ll see  
how he sleeps.  
he got put in foster care because he’s a witch  
and his parents aren’t, and they didn’t want  
a non-human child.

**wang gae [21:59]**

okay two things  
1\. what the fuck that is literally  
bullshit????? there’s nothing wrong with having  
a witch as a child??? and taehyung himself  
sounds like a really well-behaved child  
from the little that you’ve said????? i mean  
there could be something you haven’t told  
me that almost made you tear your hair  
out but; 2. did you seriously take six minutes  
to reply what were you doing

**[21:58]**

PRK JINYOUNG  
ARE YOU DRINKING WINE??????

**park gae [22:00]**

…..  
quite possibly 

**wang gae [22:00]**

are you that nervous??? oh my god  
look, nothing bad is going to happen to taehyung  
now that he’s in your hands okay???? you’re one of  
the best people with kids that i’ve ever met and  
i’ve seen mark around his nieces okay  
just drink whatever’s left in your glass, watch a little  
of that ridiculous show you like and then go to sleep  
tomorrow’s sunday, so you can sleep in and take  
all the time in the world to sort things out  
or just have a lazy day  
or invite me over to see the cute new little addition  
to the park family!!!!!!

**park gae [22:01]**

cutthroat kitchen is not a ridiculous show  
and he’s not part of the park family, jackson,  
I haven’t adopted him I’m just fostering him

**wang gae [22:01]**

same thing and jinyoung  
jinyoung please  
one guy had to cook with a pumpkin on his head

**park gae [22:01]**

it helps me with my english

**wang gae [22:01]**

riiiiiiiiiiiight  
whatever you say, jinyoung-ah

**park gae [22:02]**

go to sleep, you’ve had a long day

**wang gae [22:02]**

yes, sir!!!!!  
sleep well and have sweet dreams!!!!  
and don’t forget to ask taehyung about meeting  
me tomorrow!!!!!

**park gae [22:02]**

if you don’t go to sleep now, I’m not asking  
him tomorrow 

**wang gae [22:04]**

!!!!!!!!  
i’m in bed i’m in bed!!!!  
_Photo sent 22:04]_

**park gae [22:04]**

good night jackson

**wang gae [22:04]**

good night!!!!!!

 

* * *

 

when something you consider big happens in your life one day, it is perfectly natural to think that when you wake up the day after, something will have changed. whether it’s your surroundings, or your feelings, or even your thoughts, it can be affected. like, how in most books it’s depicted how after the love interest of the main character reveals itself in some way, it takes the protagonist several moments after waking up to remember what had happened the day before. something like that, anyway, is how it’s mostly depicted in the media.

when jinyoung wakes up, however, he is acutely aware of what happened the night before. it doesn’t take him several minutes to wake up and remember that eunhui knocked on his door yesterday with a five-year-old witch in need of a foster home as soon as possible and he was the only witch she could turn to. he didn’t have to wait long to be staring up at his dim ceiling, letting air out through his teeth, thinking that the night went a lot smoother than he thought possible.

so he chooses not to dwell on it, and instead stretches in his bed, grasping for his phone to see what time it is. a bleary 9:58 stares back at him in white over a group photo jackson had forced him into, and then forced him to put at his lock screen. it’s blurry, several text messages taking their place on his screen instead. he skims over them, brow furrowing until he gives in and rubs his eyes, getting rid of the crust around the edges, and unlocks his phone onto the group chat that, honestly, has too many messages for almost ten in the morning.

**wang gae [07:21]**

don’t forget to ask taehyung about me  
coming over!!!!!

**snake in the grass [09:01]**

what whos taehyung

**flyboy [09:06]**

congrats jinyoungie!  
you’ll do fine :)

**snake in the grass [09:07]**

wtf im missing something  
SOMEONE EXPLAIN TO ME WHATS  
GOING ON

**flyboy [09:07]**

jinyoung’s got his first foster kid

**snake in the grass [09:08]**

oh!  
ayyy congrats jinyoung!

**noodle legs mcgee [09:18]**

wtf jackson-hyung who tf gets up at  
seven on a sunday

**wang gae [09:22]**

i was going for my run!!! just because it’s  
the weekend doesn’t mean i have to stop doing  
my routine  
also don’t be rude  
say congrats to jinyoung

**noodle legs mcgee [09:23]**

congrats to jinyoung

**wang gae [09:23]**

>:(

**jaejaw [09:25]**

Yugyeom don’t be a little shit

**wang gae [09:25]**

oooooooooooooooooh

**snake in the grass [09:25]**

:o  
u in trouble

**noodle legs mcgee [09:26]**

contrats jinyoung-hyung on getting your first  
foster kid and im sure everything will turn out  
wonderful and you’ll be the best dad. fighting!

**park gae [10:06]**

you’re all a bunch of idiots

jinyoung locks his phone and places it back on his bedside table. with a stretch, a groan, and a hiss as he tries to find his slippers with his toes skimming the cold floor, still not awake enough to think that using his eyes to find them would be a good idea, he stands and shuffles to the end of his bed, pulling on his dressing gown and tying it closed. he pads out into the hallway and raises an eyebrow when he sees taehyung’s door still closed. with gentle steps, he makes his way over and knocks on the painted wood softly. when no reply meets him, he opens it and peeks his head inside.

there’s a small lump under the covers that doesn’t move, and if jinyoung tilts his head just right, he can make out brown hair fanned out on a pillow, surrounding a small face. he can’t stop the smile that graces his lips at the image, and maybe he doesn’t want to, so he closes the door once more. he can sacrifice a little longer to let the child sleep in.

he shuffles into the kitchen, rubbing at his face and stretching once more — _including_ his face, making sure the muscles are loose enough that he doesn’t feel like he’s going to fall asleep standing up —, and turns to look into the fridge and his cupboards. he forgets for a minute what he’d bought the day before after eunhui’s call, and snorts to himself. pulling out the ingredients he needs, he proceeds to make pancakes.

it’s a bit of a silly thing, to make breakfast for someone when you haven’t asked them what they like and don’t like. or, even, what they’re allergic to. so maybe that’s the excuse jinyoung uses when he makes plain, chocolate chip, cinnamon and blueberry pancakes, placing all of them in small towers on the biggest plate he has. he moves them to the dining table and then proceeds to set it, going so far as to put glasses, water and orange juice.

he chews on his bottom lip, hands on his hips as he stares at the table. then, before he can stall himself for much longer, he turns around and walks down the hall yet again. this time, when he knocks on taehyung’s door, he does it louder and gently calls out the boy’s name before he enters.

the lump is still in the same place and he smiles, again. “taehyung,” he repeats, resisting the urge to sing the boy’s name. he walks over and lets his eyes roam over the sleeping boy’s face as he reaches out and gently jostles his shoulder. he gets a small grunt and the slightest twitch of the child’s nose, so he does it again. “come on, taehyung, it’s time to wake up.”

taehyung stirs again and squints an eye open just enough for jinyoung to register that he is, indeed, waking up. he leans back but sits on the edge of the bed, amusement now flashing over his features when the child takes this moment to groan and try to burrow himself further under the covers. he laughs when all taehyung manages to do is squirm down far enough for the duvet to cover his eyes, the top of his head still very much on display.

“don’t you want breakfast, taehyung?” jinyoung asks with a smile that only widens when he makes out the five-year-old shaking his head. he waits a moment, then says, “not even pancakes?”

slowly, dark eyes peek out from the covers and jinyoung has a second to note just how unnaturally long the boy’s lashes are. taehyung’s voice is muffled and a little mumbly from sleep, “we have pancakes?”

the older witch nods. “yes, I thought making pancakes for breakfast would be nice.” he stands with an exaggerated sigh, tightening the tie of his dressing gown. “but, maybe you don’t like them. then I’ll just have to eat them all myself.”

taehyung sits up exaggeratingly fast for someone who only just woke up, and stares up at jinyoung in utter horror, jaw going slack. “no!”

“I mean,” jinyoung continues, looking thoughtfully at the window. honestly, the effect probably would have been greater if the blinds were open, but he supposes for this one time, taehyung isn’t really going to take note about whether or not his foster dad is making any sense. “I could always look to see if I’ve got cereal… I know I’ve got some fruit you could have for breakfast if you wanted.”

“no! no, no!” taehyung throws his covers off of himself and swings his legs over the edge of his bed, stuffing his feet into his psyduck slippers and running out of his bedroom. “I want pancakes! I want pancakes!”

jinyoung laughs and grabs the child’s dressing gown before following him out of the bedroom. when he makes it to the dining room, he finds taehyung standing feet away from the table, eyes wide and bottom lip sucked into his mouth. the older witch gently nudges the boy and offers him his dressing gown, moving past to take his spot at the table.

taehyung is quiet as he shrugs on his dressing gown, but doesn’t do it up, and slips into the seat opposite jinyoung’s. his eyes are still roaming the small towers of pancakes and jinyoung’s suddenly glad that taehyung seems to be tall enough to sit at the table without any help. but the sudden nervousness he’s getting doesn’t make him happy, instead he tries not to frown and moves to fill his own glass with orange juice.

“do you want a drink, taehyung?” he asks, raising his gaze from his glass once he’s stopped pouring. the boy nods, and it’s a little exaggerated, but he lets it pass. “water or juice?”

“water, please.”

and, okay, maybe breakfast starts out a little awkward when the both of them are trying to figure out how to be around each other. because it takes yet another conversation from jinyoung to convince taehyung he’s allowed to have one of each pancake, that today is all about him, and they can do whatever he wants to do. there’s still quiet from time to time, mainly with taehyung just watching jinyoung, not very subtly staring at his wrists when his sleeves itch up as he reaches for something.

it might be because jinyoung can’t remember the last time childish wonder towards witchcraft was presented to him, or it might just be because jinyoung is a huge softie at heart and wants to see taehyung be surrounded by everything he’s been denied by neglectful parents, but either way, the words are out of jinyoung’s mouth before he can even spare them a second thought. and, really, he would take them back — _should_ take them back — but taehyung’s grinning at him with a mouth full of cinnamon pancake that he quickly swallows so he can brush his teeth, hair and get dressed.

the dirty plates, glasses and cutlery are in the dishwasher, all the ingredients are back in their respective homes, and his dressing gown is once more on the foot of his bed. he managed to convince taehyung to allow him to have a shower before they do anything, and maybe it’s a dumb idea to go out in the world with damp hair, but he doesn’t think he has it in him to make the boy wait any longer. with a beanie and a scarf protecting his head and throat from the cold breeze, he fusses over the five-year-old to the point where it ends in a tickle fight that almost has the youngster smacking his head against a wall.

“I want you to keep holding onto my hand when we’re out, okay?” jinyoung says after he’s locked the door, holding out his hand for the child to grasp. he smiles when taehyung nods, bouncing on his feet, and grabs his hand, tugging him forward. the adult laughs but allows taehyung to guide him to the lift and points out which button he needs to press.

there are a lot of things that jinyoung still wonders about taehyung. one being where he came from, if he had to move far in order to be safe with jinyoung. which rouses more questions; is he happy being in seoul, does he miss his parents, does he even know that they did him wrong and that’s why he’s now living temporarily with jinyoung. they’re questions jinyoung doesn’t feel he has the right to ask the little boy the first day he’s with him, so he waits to see the e-mail with further information before he tries to approach taehyung with anything.

due to it being sunday, none of the shops are open and there are very few people out at that moment in the morning, meaning jinyoung and taehyung can dawdle along the pavement, stopping every so often to allow the excited child the opportunity to stare at whatever the shops have on offer in their windows. it makes jinyoung ask himself if taehyung is just this excited about everything, or if the boy hardly got out of the house much.

it’s not long until jinyoung starts leading properly rather than just wandering around with a bouncing five-year-old still clutching his hand. he watches the way taehyung doesn’t cower and hide behind him when he decides to take several shortcuts, easing through side-streets that are the last place you wish to walk down at night. instead, he has to tighten his hold on the child’s hand when it seems apparent that any appearance of a stray cat — and one stray dog — would lead to taehyung wishing to pet it with all his might.

but jinyoung pushes forward, hardly needing to tell taehyung more than twice not to touch stray animals, and then they’re outside, standing on a completely empty street, facing the picturesque shop that would stand out amongst any other on the street should they all not be of the same style; complete and utter witchcraft.

taehyung’s hand loosens in jinyoung’s grip and the adult lets go, giving the five-year-old time to take in what’s in front of him. he takes a step back and watches taehyung slowly walk to each window, the panes thick wood and the glass ever so slightly fogged. it’s about time they ought to get cleaned, and jinyoung thinks for a moment that he has new information to poke a stick at.

“shall we go in?” jinyoung asks, making his voice just a little bit louder than necessary in order to draw taehyung’s attention from the window. and it does; the boy jumps and spins around, blinking owlishly at the older witch as if he’d grown a second head. jinyoung nods to the door. “do you want to go in?”

“we can go in?” taehyung says, eyes still wide and fingers of the hand still pressed against the glass curling against it. “but it’s sunday! shops are closed on sunday.”

“this is a special store that’s open every day of the week,” jinyoung replies as he walks forward, one hand on the door and pushing it open gently. “and I’m friends with the owner. I’m sure he won’t mind us looking around.”

the look of complete awe on the five-year-old’s face doesn’t shift when he enters the little shop, if anything it increases and jinyoung has to try very hard not to laugh, because it is incredibly cute.

it’s difficult, he finds, to see _the lunar chronicles_ through the eyes of a kid. maybe it’s just because jinyoung has grown up with shops that were set up just like this one that the fact that a close friend of his decided to open one doesn’t phase him too much. he wanders after taehyung however, eyeing whatever it is that captures his attention; the pots of flowers found in any florist, the varying sizes of jars filled with more herbs, stones, crystals and other things useful to witches, the less usual plants that seem to live in their pots, on their shelves, swaying gently in a breeze that doesn’t exist inside the shop or to a beat only they can hear.

taehyung moves sluggishly slow, taking in everything. he even spins several times until he stops dead, mouth gaping open and eyes trained on the ceiling. jinyoung just smiles wide, the whisker-like wrinkles by his eyes on full display and lips parting to show teeth. he knows exactly what’s captured the little boy’s attention; after all, mark isn’t only skillful with ink and a needle.

“jinyoung-ah?”

said witch turns and looks over his shoulder, spying jaebum leaning against the counter. his hair’s a mess, sleeves rolled up to his forearms — tattoos depicting more than a handful of the plants on display that jinyoung just _knows_ taehyung is going to fawn over — and there’s dirt smudged against his cheek. he’s staring with his eyebrows raised, the surprise evident in the way his eyes are wider than usual.

“ah, jaebum-hyung,” jinyoung greets easily. he presses a hand to taehyung’s shoulder and gently guides the boy to the counter. he snorts when he sees the five-year-old still stubbornly trying to stare up at the ceiling. “I came for some supplies. and to show taehyung a little something of what he’s been missing.”

jaebum’s eyes drop to the boy and jinyoung counts the seconds to when the surprise melts into adoration. he gets to the count of three before jaebum’s eyebrows are lowering slowly, his eyes are softening and a small smile curls his lips. it isn’t a secret that almost everyone jinyoung knows is a sucker for kids — himself included — and, honestly, he’s going to feel a little better now that taehyung will meet jaebum before jackson. the poor witch means well, but sometimes he’s just a little bit… _too_ hyper.

“you know jackson will kill you for this, right?” jaebum muses, on the exact same train of thought. jinyoung just shrugs, but his smile hardly dims, especially when taehyung finally realises there’s two pairs of eyes on him and he’s staring, very obviously, at the flowers on jaebum’s arms.

the five-year-old gasps and places his hands on the edge of the counter, pushing himself up onto his toes to get a better look. “you have tattoos, too! just like jinyoung-hyung!”

jaebum’s smile grows even if he didn’t want it to. “I do indeed, little guy. do you like tattoos?”

taehyung nods his head vigorously, making jinyoung wince as he’s _this close_ to smacking his chin on the counter. “uh-huh! jinyoung-hyung can make his tattoos move, too!”

the briefest of glances up at jinyoung forces the witch to stick out his tongue childishly, making jaebum snort. “can he now? do you want to see what my tattoos can do?”

it’s probably the most excited he’s seen taehyung yet, as the small child nods jerkily and bounces on his toes. jaebum pulls up the make-shift horizontal door at the end of the counter and comes around, crouching in front of taehyung.

“now, watch this,” he says sternly. the boy’s eyes are wide, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he holds his breath. jaebum holds out his right arm between them and, without warning, the flower buds on his forearm slowly bloom, petals spreading open until beautiful dahlias cover his skin. taehyung gasps yet again, his bouncing ceasing and jaw going slack. his eyes become almost perfectly circles when jaebum reaches out with his left hand and gently taps at three random parts of his arm. almost as if his skin was the surface of water, colour ripples along his skin again and again until the plants are coloured to the smallest detail.

“ _wow!_ ” taehyung whisper-shouts, small hands coming up to cover his mouth but not quite doing a good job. the boy steps back and bumps into jinyoung, turning his head to stare up at his foster dad, only to point at jaebum’s arm. “did you see that!? that was so cool!”

jinyoung nods and smiles. “it was _very_ cool. jaebum has lots of tricks up his sleeves.”

despite himself, jaebum laughs at the pun and shakes his head, placing his forearm on his knee so he can stay balanced. “I’m pretty sure you’re going to love mark-hyung, taehyung. he makes tattoos for a living.”

“you can do that!?”

“you can indeed,” jaebum nods. for show, he lets his smile drop and forces an exaggeratingly serious expression on his face. “now, don’t tell me you came here just because of my tattoos? my plants need love, too.”

taehyung bounces again, small hands reaching out to grab jaebum’s arm, squeezing. “I-I can give your plants love! are they as cool as your tattoos?”

the florist nods, still incredibly serious. “they are.” he leans back a little, squinting his eyes as he looks taehyung up and down, sniffing. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever fed a plant before, have you.”

once more, taehyung’s jaw goes slack. “you can _feed_ plants?”

a nod. “oh, yes. I have several plants in the back that need feeding, actually. I was in the middle of preparing food for them. it’s a big job, you know. if you take care of them, they take care of you back.”

“can— can I help?” the boy asks almost desperately, leaning closer to jaebum and squeezing his arm yet again.

jaebum raises his eyes from the excited five-year-old to jinyoung, tilting his head to the side. “if jinyoung-ah says it’s okay, I don’t see why not.”

taehyung lets go of jaebum and turns around immediately, hesitant for a second and then grasps jinyoung’s index and pinky finger, gently tugging on them. “can I please help jaebum-hyung with his plants?”

jinyoung smiles wide and gives in, ruffling the boy’s hair. “only if I can tag along.”

taehyung’s box-like grin is so wide it forces his eyes into crescents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmu or scream at me over on [tumblr](http://www.untitledmoon.tumblr.com)


	2. careful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here come the ships, wow.
> 
> i was wondering what you guys would like to see more of?? like keep to generally childish antics atm and dealing with having a kid in the house or if you'd like more witch related scenes... i mean, idk, put requests or scenes you'd like to see in the comments and i'll try and write some of them?? other characters will be introduced soon, don't worry, but i don't want to rush anything, lmao.
> 
> let me know what you think!! bc my mind keeps running away with me with all of the possibilities of kid!bts. ahhh.
> 
> —mack

“how could you do this to me,” jackson whines loud and long. it crackles over the speaker of his phone, the device obviously not made for the speaker option it offers but jinyoung brushes it off and shrugs. jackson’s pout isn’t in hd on the screen, but even if it was, jinyoung still wouldn’t succumb to it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” jinyoung answers instead with an exaggerated shrug that forces laughter out of taehyung. the older witch does not smile as he continues to chop loudly, pausing to read the cookbook next to him in an effort to follow the recipe.

jackson whines once more, this time just a string of noises that probably could never be words, not matter what language he was speaking. “I can’t even see him now? I know he’s there! I can hear him!”

jinyoung shoots a look at taehyung, raising his eyebrows at the wide grin on the five-year-old’s face. the boy has decided that he’s going to move around the kitchen only _just_ out of frame, ducking under the countertop like a spy and rolling around on the floor to make sure that jackson has no hope of catching him on screen. jinyoung does think that his foster kid might have a mischievous streak in him as taehyung makes no attempt to stifle the noises he makes; little gasping sounds as he strikes a pose once he’s gotten from one side of the kitchen to the other, grunts as he makes an effort to roll, or walk on his toes, laughter whenever jinyoung shuts jackson down without so much as a flinch.

slowly moving his eyes once more to the cookbook, he doesn’t risk looking at jackson’s face. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m alone in the kitchen right now.”

out of the corner of his eye he spots the gaping mouth of his best friend just before he shifts to add chopped ingredients to the pot, stirring with a wooden spoon. with his back turned, he allows a brief grin before schooling his features once more. “that’s lies! so many lies!” jackson closes his mouth with a snap and points at the camera, fingertip alarmingly as large as his head on screen. “don’t you dare lie to me, park jinyoung.”

for his credit, jinyoung fakes the best offended expression he can manage, going so far as to drop what he’s got in his hands on the counter and press a hand to his chest. “ _me_ ? lying to _you_ ? I don’t believe it. why on earth would I _ever_ lie to you?”

the chinese witch says nothing, just huffs loudly and crosses his arms over his chest, pout prominent on his lips. the whole picture is incredibly childish, probably more suited to taehyung who’s slowly peeking out from the side of the counter, watching the adult and laughing so loud his mouth makes a square instead of the box-like grin, jaw hanging open. the sound is enough to make jinyoung’s lips twitch and he returns to his cookbook.

it’s not even five minutes later, when jinyoung’s managed to get taehyung to help him by handing him several things he knows the boy can reach — including one time where his hand is actually in frame and jackson gasps audibly, demanding a live replay that has taehyung bent over at the waist laughing and jinyoung unable to stop a few snort-like laughs — that jackson mumbles rather than whines.

“can I see him?”

jinyoung sends the smallest of looks down at taehyung, and then is very blatant with how he locks eyes with jackson. “I don’t know; _can_ you?”

it takes a second, but taehyung is laughing loudly again and jackson is practically squawking on the other end of the call, the feed blurred as he no doubt takes his frustration out by shaking the camera. jinyoung tries not to laugh, he really does, pressing his lips together in a thin line but it’s no use. his eyes smile without his consent and suddenly one of his best friends is glaring daggers at him.

“park jinyoung,” he starts and points a finger at the screen. “I am _disgusted_ , and I am _offended_ —”

jinyoung barks out a laugh. “don’t be such a drama queen. _but._ if you want to see taehyung so badly, I’m sure he’d be more than happy to introduce himself.”

the five-year-old scrambles immediately onto his tiptoes, stretching out an arm at an angle to reach for the phone. it slams screen down on the tabletop before taehyung manages to grab it, but his fingers gain purchase just before jinyoung can ask him to be a bit more careful. jinyoung watches as taehyung stands triumphantly with the phone, proud smile on his face and striking a pose—

only to laugh openly once he stares at the upside-down jackson on the screen. the boy turns it up the right way and grins — wide, precious and box-like. when he speaks, it’s in english, and catches both adults by complete surprise. “hello!”

“hello!” jackson says back, in english,  after a moment of just staring. he smiles wide and shifts about on screen until he’s sitting up wherever he is. “I didn’t know you knew english.”

taehyung looks lost a little, blinking owlishly. he turns to look up at jinyoung, the smile gone as he mumbles, now in korean, “I don’t know what he’s saying, jinyoung-hyung. do you know?”

jinyoung laughs when jackson starts spluttering on screen, a smattering of english and korean falling from the speakers. taehyung’s eyeing him with the phone at arm’s length, and it just makes jinyoung laugh even harder, hand hovering in front of his mouth and shoulders shaking. taehyung’s hand hovers in front of the screen, looking just a little uneasy when jackson still hasn’t seemed to gather the grasp of korean once more.

“it’s— it’s okay, taehyung,” jinyoung says between laughter, dropping his hand to show the grin it was hiding. “jackson-ah is fluent in a lot of languages so sometimes he gets mixed up with his korean.”

moving forward, the witch ducks down until he’s level with taehyung, shifting the boy’s small hand so his face shows up on the screen. “jackson-ah—” the man is still blabbering so he yells, maybe. “yah, jackson!” the chinese witch stares wide-eyed, hand paused mid-movement. jinyoung raises his eyebrows slowly, staying quiet for several seconds. “korean, yeah?”

the nod he gets is a late, but he waits for it, knows it’s coming, and sends his friend a nod and a smile. when he stands, he pats taehyung’s back, locking eyes with the child. “talk to him slowly for a little bit until he catches his bearings again, yeah?”

taehyung looks back at the screen again. there’s still the unease on his face, teeth worrying his bottom lip, and jinyoung finds himself wondering again. there has to be a reason for the boy to freak out over a splattering of languages being thrown at him, right? he’s such an open boy, having talked jaebum’s ear off the whole time the day before, intent on doing everything the florist had instructed him to do. there hadn’t been a single problem during the whole day, nothing that would have made outsiders suspect that the three of them were nothing more than family, maybe.

the unease slowly shifts around on the boy’s face, drawing jinyoung’s attention back to the present when his teeth let go of the captive lip. even if he mumbles, his words are paced out as per jinyoung’s advice, and it makes him smile softly as he turns down the heat of the stove. “are you a witch too, jackson-ssi?”

“I— yeah, I am.” jackson lowers his hand and uses it to rub at his face. “and you can call me hyung, taehyung. we’re not— I want to be your friend, yeah?”

taehyung stares for a moment, and then beams at him wide, eyes curving. “okay!”

 

* * *

 

jinyoung wakes to knocks on his bedroom door.

it throws him through a loop when he opens his eyes and his bedroom is practically pitch black. the silence is heavy and lays atop him like a blanket, spilling into his ears and cushioning his mind. he tries to reason with himself why he could have woken up; the lack of knocks making him think if he’s paranoid, or maybe he was simply dreaming something that he can’t remember but pulled at upsetting strings. he doesn’t need to go to the bathroom, the normal pressure in his bladder when he wakes strangely lacking.

he rolls over onto his other side and curls up, pulling his duvet up under his chin and closing his eyes. his intention is to sleep again, mind far too exhausted to think too much about the possible reasoning to wake. he’s only just dipping his toes into sleep once more when knocks — much more timid than the first time — reach his ears.

pushing himself up onto his back, he sets himself up on his elbows, squinting in the direction of his bedroom door. “taehyung?”

the door opens slowly, hardly any light pouring in from the hallway, and jinyoung can only just make out the small body that hasn’t let go of the doorknob. taehyung fiddles with a pikachu plush that he holds close. somehow, jinyoung knows the boy isn’t looking at him.

“taehyung?”

“can… can I sleep with you tonight, hyung?” taehyung asks quietly, mumbles really, words slurred and pronunciation the last of his friends to join the party. his head is bowed, arms tight around the stuffed toy; he looks so small that the older witch gnaws on his tongue without thinking.

“of course you can,” he replies immediately, and fidgets about in his bed. “did you have a bad dream?”

taehyung stumbles forward without closing the door, and jinyoung decides to let it go for now. watching the small boy feel his way to jinyoung’s bed and then wait for the older witch to pull back the covers so he could climb inside was enough to make jinyoung’s already soft heart even softer. he wraps his arms around the five-year-old, pulling the duvet up until the two of them are almost swallowed in it.

jinyoung frowns when he feels the little boy trembling against him, and takes it upon himself to rub his back gently. “the bad dreams can’t get you any more, okay? I’ll make sure of it.” he tucks the child’s head under his chin and cups the back of his head. “only the best for my little taehyung, yeah?”

taehyung burrows closer, and jinyoung can feel one hand fist his pyjama shirt. as smoothly as he can, so he doesn’t jostle the scared boy too much, he smooths his thumb over taehyung’s temple and closes his eyes. it’s difficult to mouth anything when you’ve got a small head tucked under your chin with the intent of allowing the owner to sleep. it takes him a moment to reposition himself so he can murmur soundlessly to his heart’s content. he thinks of things taehyung had been adamant about showing him over the last few days; pokemon, power rangers, an array of disney movies that jackson had brought over the first time he’d met taehyung in person.

jinyoung tries his hardest to concentrate on a nice dream, on something that would ease taehyung to sleep and make him ignore whatever it was that had scared him enough to wander into jinyoung’s room. it just had to be a bad dream, right? or maybe he didn’t like being away from his parents. but his parents weren’t overly fond of him, so would he have been allowed to sleep with them in their bed if he got scared?

he pushes the thoughts away. he needs to concentrate on weaving the dream for taehyung until he feels the boy take hold of it and mold it to his own desires, his own interests. it isn’t difficult to keep the nightmares at bay with a child, jinyoung has found, and he happily lets it go almost completely when he feels faint and even breathes against his neck. undeterred, he continues rubbing taehyung’s temple with his thumb for five more minutes before he decides to attempt to sleep once more himself.

 

* * *

 

the e-mail about taehyung arrives almost a week after he’s been put into jinyoung’s care. honestly, jinyoung would have thought it would have been only a few days wait, but apparently he’d been mistaken. the discrimination that eunhui mentioned bubbles up. he shoots a look over at taehyung, who’s still in his pyjamas eating cereal on the sofa, small feet occasionally swinging. surely, taehyung’s just a kid, they wouldn’t want to risk the boy’s health, would they?

he returns his attention back to the e-mail once he’s sure taehyung is completely immersed in the power rangers currently on screen. the beginning is just general information, some of which he already knew, some of which he didn’t. his eyebrows shoot up at the presence of a medical file. he wasn’t expecting the worst from the five-year-old’s family, but the idea that they took him to the hospital to have him checked on makes him wonder if they’ll eventually take him back.

the more he reads, the deeper the frown etches itself onto his face. he blinks when his phone vibrates in his hand, the notification banner presenting itself along the top of the screen. he presses it without thinking, waiting for kakaotalk to load up the group chat.

**wang gae [09:32]**

have you heard anything from the orphanage  
yet???

**park gae [09:33]**

you have impeccable timing

**wang gae [09:33]**

you’ve heard somthing!??!?!?

**snake in the grass [09:33]**

uve got to tell us now  
i will protect him with my life

**park gae [09:33]**

bambam you haven’t even met him  
yet

**snake in the grass [09:34]**

i dont need to  
thats how much i love him already

**noodle legs mcgee [09:34]**

damn bammie’s already whipped

**snake in the grass [09:34]**

did u not see the photo jinyounghyung sent  
through

**jaejaw [09:34]**

your inability to write properly hurts me

**snake in the grass [09:35]**

[Photo sent]  
look at this little piece of sunshine  
look at his smile  
tell me u wouldnt fight for his life

**wang gae [09:35]**

i told you jinyoung  
everyone’s going to love taehyung  
you don’t have to worry about him not fitting  
in

**noodle legs mcgee [09:35]**

if bammie’s willing to fight for you then  
you must be a saint

**snake in the grass [09:35]**

^^^^^

**jaejaw [09:36]**

what does the e-mail say, Jinyoung-ah?

**park gae [09:36]**

his parents actually took him to the doctors.  
and it turns out he’s not the only witch in their family.  
he has siblings but they’re all human. the witch relatives he  
has, his parents refuse to talk about.  
compared to a lot of cases he hasn’t been ‘severely mistreated’  
as they choose to say, and they doubt this will affect him  
negatively too much.

**wang gae [09:37]**

of course not getting love from your parents won’t affect  
you negaitvely at all!!! common sense!!!!!

**park gae [09:37]**

they aren’t really offering a lot of info about his home  
situation, which has me wondering.  
they finished up the e-mail with “We are currently speaking  
to the parents to see if they wish to make an effort to learn  
about witchcraft in order to be able to take care and be  
supportive of their son. So far we have yet to receive  
a definite answer.”

**snake in the grass [09:39]**

they can’t have him back ims orry  
hes mine now  
hes my son  
jinyounghyung how do i adopt a small human

**wang gae [09:39]**

hey!!!!!!!!!  
if anyone is adopting taehyung it’s jinyoung  
okay  
get your own

**noodle legs mcgee [09:39]**

who made you in charge of taehyung’s new  
guardian

**park gae [09:40]**

jackson we’ve talked about this

**snake in the grass [09:40]**

maybe i will  
jinyoung sned me ur finest chidl

**noodle legs mcgee [09:40]**

sned

**flyboy [09:40]**

chidl

**jaejaw [09:40]**

Bambam children aren’t wine

**park gae [09:41]**

I can’t believe I’m friends with all of you

“jinyoung-hyung?”

jinyoung blinks and snaps his eyes up to taehyung. the five-year-old has placed his empty bowl on the table, the spoon sitting inside, and is staring at him curiously. he’s still swinging his feet, a little more purposeful now than before, and jinyoung feels his heart heavily in his ribs at just how adorable the little boy is. he doesn’t think he’ll get over the boy leaving easily.

“yes, taehyung-ah?” he answers, locking the screen of his phone automatically and letting his hand fall in his lap.

taehyung’s eyes flicker to the adult’s phone then back up at his face. “what were you doing?”

“just talking to my friends.” he shifts a little in his spot and sits a little more comfortably, crossing his legs indian style on the sofa. “they were asking about you, you know. a lot of them are still excited to meet you.”

the boy blinks and shuffles closer. “jaebum- and jackson-hyung? but they’ve already met me.”

jinyoung smiles. “I have more friends than that, taehyung-ah. hey,” he says, pursing his lips and squinting his eyes in a mocking fashion of a thoughtful expression. “why don’t we make them all jealous and send them a picture of us together?”

he half expects the small boy to scold him for trying to make his friend’s jealous, or tell him that he wouldn’t want to take a photo under those circumstances, but instead taehyung grins, teeth on display and eyes disappearing into crescent moons. he crawls over as quickly as he can and sits in jinyoung’s lap, grabbing the adult’s free arm and winding it around his waist.

jinyoung grins himself and unlocks his phone easily, clicking on the camera option on kakaotalk and holding the phone up. “now, remember, we want to make them jealous that I get such a wonderful boy to myself, yeah?”

“yeah!” taehyung shouts, sitting up straighter and smiling wider, gazing at jinyoung on the screen.

“that’s it, keep that grin.” jinyoung makes sure that he captures the picture when his own smile forces the whiskering wrinkles at the corner of his eyes to come into view. he shows the picture to taehyung, who pumps his fist in victory and urges jinyoung to send it through the groupchat.

the two of them sit back and watch in amusement as messages come flooding in, taehyung squealing loudly with laughter every time jinyoung goes red-faced and frantically types out messages for his friends to stop swearing, because _there is a child present, thank you very much,_ **_jackson and bambam_ ** _._

but it’s worth it, to see the smile that stretches along taehyung’s face. there should probably be some worry in the back of his mind that he’s getting too attached too quickly to the young boy, but he can’t find it in himself to think about it right now. all he knows, is that he’d do anything to keep the small little witch happy. for as long as he lived under jinyoung’s roof, he was going to try and keep taehyung the happiest he could be.

 

* * *

 

when taehyung first meets mark, he’s got a cold and can barely keep his eyes open.

there’s a small lump on the sofa surrounded by three different blankets that jinyoung normally keeps in the closet for when it’s winter and freezing cold, swaddled in his duvet with empty tissue packets surrounding him and scrunched up used tissues slowly moving in on the coffee table. small hands just about peek out from the mound, holding a warm cup of hot chocolate that occasionally gets slurped out of noisily.

the centre of the mound — a very small witch with drooping eyes, a red nose and chapped lips — stares at the unfamiliar face in front of him with the blankest expression possible. jinyoung had mused through the group chat that a sick taehyung could probably witness murder and be completely unphased.

“hey, taehyungie,” mark says softly with a just as soft smile. he stops just to the side of the mountain of blankets and crouches down. the plastic bag he had held in his hand rustles and taehyung’s eyes briefly zip downwards. “jaebum-ah and I heard you were sick and thought we’d come to visit to cheer you up.”

taehyung blinks a few times, eyes shifting up to jaebum. the florist is standing next to jinyoung, seemingly in conversation, but waves at the five-year-old when he catches his gaze. taehyung sniffs and looks back at mark. “who’re you?”

to his credit, the man doesn’t look offended, merely smiles in amusement. “I’m mark, taehyungie, jaebum’s boyfriend.”

the boy nods once and takes a mouthful of his hot chocolate. he feels sluggish and stuffed up, nose hurting with the pressure of having it blocked. even with his brain not working 100%, at a later date he’ll get embarrassed about not remembering straight away how jaebum had mentioned him the first time the two met. instead, he squints his eyes at mark, looking over his face, auburn hair and deep eyes.

“jaebum said that you like tattoos,” mark pipes up and he shifts about on his feet. he gestures briefly to the spot next to taehyung, “can I sit next to you?”

taehyung nods and sniffs again, watching with tired curiosity as mark fishes something out of his plastic bag and places it on his lap. it’s a hardbound book, the edges slightly bent and scuffed. even in his state and at his age, taehyung can tell it’s been well-used and is possibly old. he blinks and looks up at mark again, noticing from this angle that there are dark lines poking out of the top of the man’s turtleneck.

mark leans in close, shooting a small look to jinyoung and jaebum, and whispers, “I’m a witchy tattoo artist.”

despite the cold, taehyung’s eyes widen as much as possible in their puffy state, small mouth hanging open and forming a perfect ‘o’ shape. “you are?”

the older witch nods and pats the book cover with both hands. “indeed. and I brought along with me some of my sketches and ideas. I thought you might enjoy looking at them.”

taehyung bounces a little where he sits, trying to move about in his mound of blankets so he can see the book better while simultaneously not spilling his hot chocolate over himself and mark. he doesn’t get very far. mark laughs and and shifts instead, making taehyung hold his hot chocolate over his head so he doesn’t knock it with his elbow. when the two settle down again, taehyung is almost in mark’s lap and the hot chocolate has now been put amongst the tissues on the coffee table so it won’t stain the sketches.

mark offers his book and watches with soft eyes as small, dark hands grasp it and fight to fit it on his lap. it’s only _just_ a little too big for his lap, but he manages, and mark offers one of his own hands to keep it steady.

the first few pages are filled with small doodles, either simplistic drawings coloured in black or outlines of little details, such as crowns, moons, clouds, feathers, different herbs that taehyung doesn’t know the name of. taehyung takes his time, eyes wide and awe etched into every single itch of his face. small fingers trace a few of the designs and make sure to be careful and slow as he passes the pages.

“do you, um, do you tattoo non-witches, too?” taehyung asks once he’s seen several different animal sketches, which mark explained to be some of his customers familiars and other just wildlife he’d witnessed and gotten jaebum to photograph for him.

mark blinks. “I have indeed. can I show you something?” he waits for the five-year-old to nod and then starts flicking through his sketchbook for a specific thing. when he finds it, he spreads the page out but makes sure to keep taehyung’s previous place checked with one hand. “I tattooed someone who was pregnant and had heard about me through friends.”

taehyung’s jaw hangs open as he gapes at the [tattoo](http://www.tattoo-models.net/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/tattoo-ideas-for-women-baby.jpg) and then looks up at mark with wide eyes. “did it— can it move, too?”

the smile on the older’s face is nothing if not proud and somewhat whimsical. “they came to me because they wanted me to charm the tattoo so that it would show what position the baby was in at all times.”

“that’s so cool,” taehyung breathes and looks back down at the tattoo. he gently traces the curve of the baby’s skull before mark moves back to previous pages.

the next ten minutes are filled with taehyung muttering, “this is so cool!” and “I want this one!” again and again every time. mark just sits next to him with a wide grin on his face, pointing out abilities of every other tattoo, ones that he knows would capture the child’s fascination. he even takes the time to tell the little boy about a [tattoo](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/c0/6f/f4/c06ff4d86c73ae5c10a51ea89f2bb854.jpg) jaebum has on his collarbone and [one](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/51/7a/ee/517aeea49a24eafacd86f0e88e684ed0.jpg) jinyoung has across his ribs.

jinyoung raises his eyebrows when he can hear taehyung audibly gasp from the kitchen, but says nothing, just looks to jaebum to find a soft smile on his face. taking a mouthful of the tea jaebum had brought with him, the dream weaver tilts his head. “what’s got you looking like you’re falling in love again?”

“taehyung-ah is in love with mark’s art,” jaebum says with a small laugh, moving a little further into the kitchen. he crosses his arms over his chest and rests his hip on the kitchen counter. “but that’s not the only a reason you asked us over, is it?”

jinyoung takes another mouthful and sighs. “I got a call from eunhui last night.”

“okay,” jaebum says with narrowed eyes, darting his gaze all over his friend’s posture and then all over his face. “what did she say?”

“his parents aren’t willing to learn about witchcraft to take him back,” jinyoung says quietly, words measured, eyes flickering behind jaebum to the threshold of the kitchen that leads into the dining and living room. “this isn’t an emergency foster care anymore. it changed from emergency to short term three weeks ago, almost a month now. and now it’s— he’s here long-term, hyung.”

the florist stares at him, narrowed eyes losing their edge and melting into something a lot softer. his fingers smooth over the fabric of his jumper as he thinks. during the time jinyoung had been considering being a foster dad, he had been one of the few people with enough time to do the research with the nervous man. he knows the pressure this could possibly put on his friend, knows that, even if this is what he wanted, it’s still a big step.

he moves to look over his shoulder, pauses, sighs. his arms free themselves only to have his hands rub at his face. “what are you going to do?”

there’s a clink as jinyoung puts his mug down. “I’m not going to give him back to eunhui. I can’t. there isn’t any benefit of him moving foster homes— not now. nobody would take better care of him.” jaebum sends him a look, hands now on the counter, and jinyoung sends him one right back. “discrimination, hyung. and the humans have no idea what to do when his powers start showing up or what to teach him about figuring out what kind of witch he is.”

jaebum’s eyes roam over jinyoung and he moves forward, hand reaching out to grab his friend’s shoulder and give it a squeeze. he feels the tense line under his palm and takes an active step not to look pitying. “okay. this is okay, jinyoung-ah. you take good care of him, you have us as back-up, he loves you to death. this isn’t going to be a bad thing.”

“but I need to tell him,” jinyoung murmurs, head bowing just the slightest bit. “I need to tell him that his parents don’t want him any more, that his parents have said they don’t have any interest in learning about what he is— do you know how traumatic that can be?”

jaebum grinds his teeth together in contemplation, and smooths his hand along jinyoung’s shoulders until he can curl his fingers around the base of the witch’s neck. “jinyoung, we—”

“uhm, hey?”

the two of them jump and turn to look at the threshold of the kitchen, mark’s face poking out from a side. the smile from before isn’t present and, instead, there’s a pull to his brows that jaebum recognises instantly and puts jinyoung at unease. one hand is curled around the doorframe to make sure that the tattoo artist doesn’t fall to the ground, tips of his fingers and knuckles are pale, and it’s possible it’s not just because of the need to stay upright.

“sorry to interrupt but you might—” the three of them jolt when all three of their phones ping at the same time. mark and jinyoung watch with rapt attention as jaebum pats his pockets until he finds his phone and pulls it out. his eyebrows raise at his screen and it’s only seconds before he unlocks his phone.

“you might want to hold that thought, mark-ah,” he says, showing his phone to jinyoung who’s closest and then walking towards his boyfriend to show him the same thing. “looks like you’re going to have a bigger audience than just us.”

**solar eclipse [17:32]**

everyone needs to meet up at jinyoung-hyung’s  
house asap  
non-negotiable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmu or scream at me over on [tumblr](http://www.untitledmoon.tumblr.com).
> 
> also i think it's from ahl but when taehyung's wandering around behind the kids and giggles before saying "hello!" is the cutest fucking thing. he's so close to kicking my bias off his perch like damn boy can you please calm yourself thank you.
> 
> i regret nothing about making tattoos a theme in practically all of my works lmao.


	3. death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story is getting a lot of love and it's making me super happy!! it's a lot of fun to write even if i just want to get to the point where i can introduce all of gotbang's witchy peculiarities but!! pacing is good to. builds up expectation and giddiness lmao.
> 
> so here's chapter three!! and we get to meet everyone's favourite at the end~ yay for managing to worm another child in at the third chapter, haha.
> 
> —mack

jinyoung’s gaze follows coco as the dog trots in, jumping up and placing her paws on his shin, tail wagging furiously until he pets her head. she gives a happy little bark and wanders further into the house, stopping at every single person in the room to say hello. when she arrives at her second owner, she refuses to leave mark alone until the man has scooped her up and held her close to his chest. she strains a little in his arms when she spies taehyung still wrapped up in his cocoon of blankets, and mark shifts close enough for taehyung to reach out a hand to let her sniff.

the thud of boots to jinyoung’s left has his gaze turning back to youngjae. the witch is struggling slightly with the laces and, honestly, the dream weaver doesn’t blame him much. it had started raining only a few minutes ago and already it looked dreary and freezing outside. he wouldn’t be surprised if he found out that his friend’s fingers were numb to the bone. when he drops slippers in front of youngjae’s socked foot, the witch in turn tils his head to give him a small smile.

a loud poof sounds behind him, followed by coughing and an indignant squawk from jaebum that he would later deny to within an inch of his life.

“oh, my god! jinyoung-hyung, you have honestly been so mean.”

jinyoung turns his head, intent on asking kunpimook _what_ , exactly, he had been so mean about when he’s suddenly attacked by the sight of _yellow_. a bright yellow that smothers kunpimook’s torso and crawls up his neck. the sweater should be hideous — and honestly, if he saw it in a shop on a wrack he would be filled with the urge to burn every single last one of them — but somehow it doesn’t look hideous on kunpimook. only mildly disgusting.

youngjae seems to have managed to get his other boot off and stuff his feet into his slippers,  as well as close the door behind him, because he’s walking past jinyoung and shooting kunpimook the most appalled look jinyoung has ever seen on his face. “never mind that, _what_ are you _wearing_?”

and because it’s kunpimook, the man strikes a ridiculous pose, going so far as to include his legs in it to make him look like an obnoxious model, and sends youngjae a sultry look. “do you like it? it’s my own creation.”

“I think it’d look better if you take it somewhere that can unravel it,” jaebum butts in, arms crossed over his chest in an attempt to make everyone forget the squeal he’d made moments earlier. it doesn’t work, because jinyoung is sure that mark will use it as future blackmail, if the curve to his lips is anything to judge by. and if mark doesn’t, jinyoung might just have to.

“excuse you!” kunpimook gasps, dropping the pose to press a hand to his chest. “this is a masterpiece and I would like you to respect that!”

“guys,” mark says, absentmindedly stroking coco.

“by masterpiece,” jinyoung says, walking into the living room and stopping behind the sofa, leaning his hip against the back. “if you mean an actual disaster, then yes, it is a masterpiece.”

kunpimook’s jaw drops open, forcing his lips to make a perfect ‘o’, and his eyes narrow as he practically glares at the dream weaver. “park jinyoung,” he says slowly, dropping his hand and squaring his shoulders. “you did not just insult my hard work.”

youngjae blinks several times, eyes roaming over the sweater while jaebum points at it questioningly, and says, “ _that_ is hard work?”

“I cannot believe I am friends with all of you. none of you deserve me, I should just leave right now. I can see where I’m not wanted.” the thai witch jerks his chin up and spins around on his heels, disappearing round the corner down the hall

“ _guys_ ,” mark tries once more.

“yugyeom! jackson-hyung! just the people I wanted to see!”

“bammie?”

“what are you wearing?”

“I made it myself! isn’t it pretty? I wanted to show off how good my ideas are but they don’t think I should have wasted time making it.”

“well…”

“ _guys!_ ”

three heads snap to look at mark sat on the sofa, eyes wide and lips parted, as they take in the frown etched on the tattoo artist’s face. slowly, the three witches from the hallway emerge into the living room, their hands raised in surrender and eyes looking specifically for mark. when the six of them have their attention on the man, he leans back in his seat and tilts his head slightly.

“now,” mark says, raising his eyebrows. “can we get down to what you guys came over for?”

jinyoung’s eyes fall to taehyung. the five-year-old is paying little to no attention to the adults in the room, making him wonder if that’s because of the boy’s illness, too, or if his attention span is just that easily distracted by a soft, fluffy dog that keeps licking his hand whenever he tries to stop petting her and recluse back into his blanket fortress. a sigh leaves his lips and, before he knows it, he’s moved around the sofa to sit beside his foster child, crossing one leg over the other.

the others fall suit, sitting on the sofa where they can manage; which ends up with jackson practically forcing kunpimook to sit on his lap as he squidges in beside yugyeom on the two seater, jaebum dragging a dining chair over and youngjae quite content to just sit on the floor, leaning back on his hands.

mark’s eyes slide over every face in the room before he gives a triumphant nod, shifting back in his own seat and pulling coco away from taehyung so the boy doesn’t get distracted. “now, taehyung-ah.”

the five-year-old drags his hand back underneath his blankets and sits up a little straighter, looking up at mark with wide, watery eyes. “yeah?”

“do you think you can tell everyone what you told me a few minutes ago?” mark asks, not dropping eye contact with the boy. “about the woman?”

“okay,” taehyung says with a nod, he turns his head to look at jinyoung before he starts talking, voice ever so slightly nasal from the blocked nose he’s still sporting. “she says she doesn’t like talking to me. she says she wants to find someone older.” taehyung frowns as he gazes at jinyoung’s bewildered expression. “she’s wet and she won’t let me help her.”

jinyoung can’t look at anyone else for a moment, stunned by the idea that ten minutes ago taehyung had complained to mark about a woman while there was definitely no woman in sight in the whole apartment. there hadn’t been a woman in his flat since his mother visited for new years, giving him a surprise and gushing over the rest of his coven as much as she did over him.

“woman?” he finally manages, spying out of the corner of his eye as jaebum frowns, and yugyeom and jackson share a look between them. “what woman?”

taehyung doesn’t miss a beat, hand darting out to point just over jinyoung’s shoulder. “that woman.”

despite the feeling that he already knows what he’s going to see, jinyoung turns his head to gaze at the empty space behind him, eyes focusing on the sky outside his window and the rain hitting the glass. he turns back to look at the boy, who’s taking his hot chocolate from mark and sipping on it loudly.

“I don’t see a woman,” jinyoung admits tentatively, unsure how the child will take it.

taehyung blinks and pulls his mug away from his mouth. “it’s okay,” he says, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. and, honestly, between witches, it probably should be. “mark-hyung says he can’t see her either.”

mark and jinyoung lock eyes over taehyung’s head, the tattoo artist shrugging one shoulder at the questioning look. of course, taehyung is a growing boy, a five-year-old witch. and, though it isn’t rare for children this young to start showing hints at what type of witch they might be, what their powers will revolve around, something about the whole situation seems a little more worrying than it should be.

“what does she look like, taehyung?”

the boy turns his head to look at youngjae, opening his mouth to speak. but instead, his jaw just hangs as he stares at the small dots, stars and feathers youngjae has tattooed onto the apples of his cheeks, following the curve of his eyes. although taehyung isn’t anywhere close enough to look upon them in small detail, the ink still manages to capture his attention until jinyoung gives him a nudge that he almost doesn’t feel thanks to his blankets.

“she’s got dark hair!” he blurts quickly, curling in on himself and hugging the mug closer to his chest. his cheeks colour a little in embarrassment. “she’s really wet and she shivers a lot. she keeps saying mean things to me,” he adds on, bottom lip slowly pushing out into a pout. “she doesn’t like me.”

jaebum’s eyebrows raise high before they fall into a frown. “she doesn’t like you.”

taehyung shakes his head. “she keeps saying she doesn’t want to talk to a kid. that I don’t get it.” the boy ducks his head even more, looking more than a little put out when he mumbles, “that I’m useless.”

the frown on jaebum’s face matches those on the other six adults in the room except for one. mark shifts a little in his spot, taking taehyung’s mug when it’s empty, and jinyoung wraps an arm around the five-year-old as well as he can, pulling the boy a little closer to him. the boy’s been here over a month now and jinyoung already feels his heart taking the child in with open arms. he should probably try and put some distance between the two of them, keep his feelings to something less familial, but it’s a struggle he doesn’t think he’ll win.

“you’re not useless, taehyung-ah,” he says as tenderly as he can while keeping his voice stern. he rubs what he thinks is taehyung’s arm, giving the boy a squeeze for reassurance.

taehyung pulls the covers tighter around himself. “she’s saying I am again.”

it honestly looks like everyone’s ready to fight someone they can’t see as they all shift in their spots; jaebum’s jaw is set and eyes narrowed, jackson is digging his fingers into kunpimook’s hips, who looks like he wants to pounce on thin air, and yugyeom is forcing his fists between his thighs, shoulders hunched, the frown set so deep into his face jinyoung thinks it might just become a permanent fixture. the only one who hasn’t reacted so badly — merely suffering from the twitch of an eyebrow — is youngjae.

jinyoung watches his friend and skims his gaze over his face, analysing the pull to his mouth, arch of his brow, the ever so slightly out-of-focus glaze that has been present in the witch ever since the two met. suddenly, youngjae perks up, as if he’d been pricked by a needle, and pushes himself slowly onto his feet until he’s crouching. “what does she look like, taehyung?”

the child blinks and looks over at youngjae, eyes wide and watery. “what?”

youngjae waves a hand at kunpimook, who looks like he’s about to point out that taehyung has already mentioned what she looks like, and persists with, “can you see _through_ her?”

taehyung blinks owlishly at him, eyes leaving youngjae for a simple second to the empty air in front of the window. there’s something that settles in jinyoung when he notices how the five-year-old’s eyes focus on _something_ and follow it as it moves to stop beside youngjae. the child looks back at youngjae and gives two small nods.

“good, good, good,” youngjae says, standing abruptly and patting the back of his trousers. “how long have you been able to see her?”

mark’s fingers reach over and start playing with taehyung’s hair gently, pushing themselves under dark strands and then gently combing their way through knots. it makes the boy relax against jinyoung a little further, eyes moving between the standing witch and thin air.

“um,” he says, uncertain, eyes moving as if he were looking someone up and down. “maybe…. I think she came here tuesday?”

youngjae’s nodding, no longer patting his bottom, and moves past jaebum’s chair and the two-seater housing yugyeom, jackson and kunpimook. he stops at the dining table to dig about in a black messenger-style bag that jinyoung had failed to notice he’d brought with him — probably how he’d kept coco dry on the way over — that was a gift from kunpimook several years ago. “have you seen others like her?”

taehyung nods against jinyoung’s chest, making both him and mark stare at each other with parted lips and blank faces. youngjae sends a look over his shoulder and snaps the five-year-old out of the trance he’d been put into upon seeing the ink that decorated the back of the adult’s neck. “yes!”

youngjae turns back to his bag, elbows deep into it and still looking for all the world as if he can’t find a single thing he’s looking for. “when did you start seeing them?”

“I don’t know,” taehyung mumbles, turning his head into jinyoung’s chest. the way he says it, as if he feels sad and guilty for not being able to answer something, makes jinyoung’s heart beat hard enough to bruise his ribs. he squeezes the five-year-old and mark ruffles his hair.

“okay.” youngjae huffs and seems to have given up on whatever it was he was looking for, leaning against the table and crossing his arms over his chest. he chews on his tongue in thought, squinting down the hallway. “do you remember a time when you couldn’t see people like her?”

taehyung shakes his head, speaking when jinyoung turns him around so he can still be practically cuddled in the dream weaver’s lap but speak without sounding muffled, “no… I don’t remember things good.” he refuses to look at youngjae when the witch turns his attention from the hall to him. “I’m sorry.”

“did you see people like her at home?” youngjae questions, face impassive.

the answer is immediate if quiet, as if taehyung wants to be of as much help as he possibly can to make up for his uncertainty. “yes.”

youngjae nods. jinyoung spies jaebum’s attention turning from youngjae to taehyung, up to jinyoung and then back to youngjae once more, his confusion evident in the pull of his features, the way he splays himself out on the chair, legs spread slightly and heels resting against the floor. jackson doesn’t look much better in understanding, and is much more obvious with his flickering attention. yugyeom seems to be intending to try and find the invisible woman while kunpimook is the only one gesturing wildly.

the heavily tattooed witch catches his eye with a raised eyebrow, and kunpimook thrusts his hands out in front of him, “ _what?_ what _is it_? what have you figured out?”

“I can’t be certain, but I think I might know what type of witch taehyung is,” youngjae says. he pushes away from the dining table and juts his chin out at jinyoung, catching the man’s attention easily. “but first, jinyoung, you won’t happen to have any mullein, wormwood, mugwort, lavender and thyme?”

 

* * *

 

 

“you know,” yugyeom says, standing a few feet away from youngjae but unable to keep himself from giving into his curiosity and intrigue at the ritual about to take place, no matter how many times he’s seen it, “when I came here today, I didn’t think I’d get to see you at work.”

the witch kneeling on the floor snorts and continues to flick his lighter until the flame stays steady, moving it along the lavender until it catches fire, quickly extinguishing the lighter and patting the lavender against the plate it’s sat on until the small flames die out and only smoke is left. coco, sitting beside him, twitches her nose at the smell but otherwise doesn’t move. “shouldn’t you be fawning over taehyung like everyone else?”

the two witches lock eyes and then turn their attention to the five-year-old boy on the sofa. jinyoung is no longer sat beside him, instead rummaging around in his kitchen trying to find where he put the thyme that he swears he has. instead, kunpimook has moved to take his spot and jackson mark’s after the tattoo artist stood to allow the ever excited healer a chance to meet the boy face to face for the first time. despite the grogginess that still clings to the sick child, he grins as wide as he can, just the hint of a box-like shape to the stretch of his lips, looking back and forth between jackson and kunpimook.

the three of their voices carry between the thuds of jinyoung’s cupboards opening and closing, creaking hinges only adding to the atmosphere, and mark and jaebum’s murmuring from behind the two seater, eyes stuck on taehyung and company while they speak to nobody but each other. there’s questions about tattoos and magic and pets, neither youngjae nor yugyeom being able to deny the squeal of delight and look of excitement on taehyung’s face when he finds out kunpimook has a pet snake — a banana python called _banana_.

yugyeom and youngjae turn their heads to look at each other once more, both supporting the same, smitten and soft smile on their faces. yugyeom shakes his head and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “nah. I’ll talk to the kid later. maybe when he doesn’t look like he’s about to pass out any second.”

youngjae snorts before he can stop himself. “nice choice.”

yugyeom continues to cock his head and watch as youngjae turns the bay leaves he’d gotten from his bag as well as the thyme jinyoung finally returns to the living room with into incense. the mixture of smells that slowly strengthens in the living room is enough to give yugyeom a headache and he backs off, fingers itching to open a window. jackson did that once and almost threw himself out of it straight after when youngjae’s screeching scold reached him.

jinyoung moves to stand next to yugyeom, crossing his arms over his chest, and also watching their friend. “you know, I thought you said that you’d cleared this flat the week before taehyung got here.”

youngjae pauses where he is, hands holding the mug of mugwort tea to his lips. his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, mug pulled an inch away from his lips to allow him to speak, “yes, because the spirits that stuck around beside you then were ‘exorcised’, as you put it. what, did you think your flat was free from the rest of the spirits that walk the earth from now ‘till forever?”

the dream weaver scowls, and then scowls deeper when he hears yugyeom try to hide his laughter between sealed lips and failing miserably. “just drink your damn tea and get on with it.”

there’s a twitch to youngjae’s lips as he finishes his tea, downing it quick as if it were a shot, complete with grimace once everything had been ingested. jinyoung took the offered mug from his hand and moved to take it out to the kitchen.

“okay,” youngjae says, and it’s louder now because he’s no longer only talking to yugyeom. jaebum and mark look up from where they’re standing, still huddled close with mark’s head dangerously close to lying on jaebum’s shoulder, and the younger man’s hand resting on his boyfriend’s hip. kunpimook and jackson — reluctantly, yugyeom notices with much amusement — turn away from taehyung to give youngjae their full attention. “I’m going to need everyone to be quiet and form a circle around me.”

jinyoung walks out of the kitchen and hesitates slightly. they’d moved things around in the living room, shifting the coffee table out into the hall and pushing the small sideboard with the tv on it as close to the wall as possible. youngjae said he needed to sit as close to the centre of the room as possible and surround himself with his necessities — lavender, thyme, mullein, copal, graveyard mold and god knows what else — in order for the ritual to be most effective. everyone else already moves to sit behind one of the plates.

“does taehyung need to be here for this?” jinyoung asks. he walks closer slowly, stopping a few feet away from his foster kid still wrapped up in blankets.

youngjae stares at him for a moment and jinyoung doesn’t like the feeling that his friend thinks that he’s stupid. “he sees spirits, jinyoung-hyung, and he’s a young witch. do you think he’s _not_ going to become part of rituals in later life?”

pressing his lips together into a thin line, jinyoung asks as politely as he can, “it’s a bit of a heavy ritual to be his first, don’t you think?”

the necromancer’s gaze is unwavering, steady and unblinking, so the dream weaver just sighs, shoulders slumping. “alright, aright. taehyung-ah?”

the boy perks up where he’s sitting, fingers grasping tightly around the first blanket that had been wrapped around him, and looks up at jinyoung with wide, hopeful eyes. “yes?”

jinyoung waves the boy over with his hand, sitting beside yugyeom and leaving space for the five-year-old to plop himself down between the two of them. “I want you to listen carefully to what youngjae has to say and follow his directions if he tells you to do something, okay?”

“okay!” taehyung whispers, practically bouncing where he sits as he stares at the bowls in front of him.

youngjae surveys the two of them, then spares a look at the other four adult’s faces, raising one of his eyebrows. “okay, we good?” when he receives a nod from every single one of them, he nods himself and shifts about on his knees, straightening his back.

shedding the jacket he’d been wearing shows a loose sleeveless v-neck tucked into his jeans, the fabric flowing over the waistband, and allows the multitude of inked designs on his skin to come into view. they seemingly activate with the smoke, rippling, moving, twitching, _breathing_ whenever the thick smoke touches them or brushes against the necromancer’s skin. even the feathers beneath his now closed eyes shift as if they’re being played with. jinyoung looks at taehyung out of the corner of his eye and is unsurprised to find the five-year-old gawking, but feels a small amount of pride bloom in his chest when he notes that he hasn’t moved an inch from his spot, though he looks like he wants nothing more than to touch youngjae.

sometimes, jinyoung forgets what his friends hide beneath their clothes. he lets whatever dead tongue youngjae starts whispering wash over him as his gaze drags over his friend’s body; etchings of some of the herbs they’re using now and some jinyoung can just about recognise through the fog that’s building up in his flat decorating youngjae’s wrist like a bracelet and circling his biceps in two bands an inch apart from each other, the moths and butterflies that live on his throat, the black cat that stretches on the back of his left hand and the crow that continuously flies around and around his collarbones.

somewhere in his mind, jinyoung tells himself that mark has contributed to the art on youngjae’s body before his eyelids feel heavy and fall down until he can see nothing but black. the fog in his home is seeping into his mind — and, he’s sure, the minds of everyone else present — and weighs down on his consciousness until it leaves him thinking of nothing but a woman. a woman with dark hair and dark eyes to match, with small hands and feet, a gangly body. she’s moving in a kitchen that doesn’t become to be jinyoung’s, talking to a little girl that doesn’t look familiar. then she’s sitting at a desk in a suit, phone pressed between her ear and her shoulder, familiar lines on her face that anyone would be able to associate with stress. and then a man comes in, out of focus, winding his arms around her waist and pulling her against him, resting his chin on her shoulder.

there’s something about the images that feel dated, and suddenly jinyoung can’t hear properly any more. it’s like he’s underwater, a film pushed over both the conversations happening in — what he can only assume are _memories_ of a person he’s never met — his mind and youngjae’s chanting that he knows will have grown from whispers and murmurs to normal volume.

he doesn’t have the time or awareness to worry about taehyung because there are more memories flashing through his head that aren’t his; the little girl’s second, fourth, tenth birthdays, the woman laughing in the park, at a movie, content reading a book, joking about with the unfocused man as the two of them wash dishes. there’s trouble in paradise when the woman shouts at the man for something he did or didn’t do, for a misconception, for discomfort. he doesn’t know what it is, just knows that he witnesses several that all end with the two of them clinging to each other tightly and apologising.

everything seems so mundane, from witnessing the woman giving birth to the clean-up of the house, from moving out when she can’t be much older than eighteen to her first date with the unfocused man. it seems like such a normal life that jinyoung loses himself in the tranquility until **_it_ ** slaps him around the face so hard he thinks he’s gotten run over.

the little girl isn’t very little any more, maybe thirteen, when she comes home from school and runs to the bathroom, intent on relieving herself only to find the bath filled to the brim with water and her comfortably clothed mother lying submerged beneath the surface, peaceful.

belatedly, taehyung comes to mind, and jinyoung wants nothing more than to pry his eyes open and reach out for the five-year-old, to make sure he’s okay and not scared out of his goddamn mind. but he can’t, because instead he’s staring into the face of the dead woman as she’s dragged out of the bath by the little girl, only to be found minutes later by the unfocused man as he comes in from who knows where.

the feeling of consciousness and the awareness of air in his lungs hits him almost as hard as the woman’s suicide had. the dream weaver’s eyes snap open. they’re too blurry, almost to the point of spilling over and dripping tears down his cheeks. he thinks they might be puffy, might be red-rimmed, but he says nothing, doesn’t move a muscle except to blink so he can focus, doesn’t even dare to look to his sides.

in front of him is the same woman from before, in her soaking wet clothes with her hair plastered to her scalp and neck, dripping water to his floor that leaves a ghostly puddle. she’s glaring at youngjae, hissing something in the language of the dead before turning on taehyung.

it’s with wide eyes and an urge to let his jaw fall slack that he watches youngjae at work, listens to the sharpness of his tongue and the determination in his words, spies the hands that offer several of the objects and plants laid out on plates, but the woman refuses. she hisses and curses and almost roars, face stretching to accommodate unreal expressions of anger that twist her into something no longer human, into something that portrays only what truly could have been her soul.

the air is tense and it burns jinyoung’s lungs and he worries that he can’t breathe, worries that taehyung might not be able to stay seated and still, worries that jackson will try and do something to stop the shouting and unintentionally just make everything _worse_ — the woman in the middle of their semicircle explodes.

it’s not as cool as it sounds; it’s damn near frightful. there aren’t flames, or fire, there’s just a ghost one second, dangerously close to stepping too close to youngjae and absorbing herself into his body when she freezes, face contorting until she screams and scratches at her face in vain. because nothing happens; there aren’t any scratches left behind, she doesn’t manage to make herself bleed— jinyoung wonders if she can feel anything at all. but then it comes, she lets out the biggest wail and just combusts. air and dust and what jinyoung would like to call ectoplasm rushes past all eight witches in the living room, reaching every corner on offer.

the silence that falls afterwards is deafening.

slowly, jinyoung spies out of the corner of his eye that yugyeom has started to move. it’s shifting his weight about on his legs, but then jinyoung can see him more clearly because he’s shuffling around the bowls youngjae set out and gently places a hand on the necromancer’s forearm. there’s a sharp intake of breath and youngjae snaps rigidly to attention.

“jinyoung-hyung,” he says, and his voice isn’t the nice, soft little thing jinyoung’s used to hearing, instead it’s deep and raspy, dry and sounds like it _hurts_. the dream weaver gives a sharp nod when youngjae locks eyes with him. he knows from experience that there’s nothing youngjae hates more when he’s in charge of his rituals than people not listening or doing as they’re told. “I want you to get taehyung dressed, pack an overnight bag for him and yourself, and then leave your flat.”

he’d like to say that he understood what he was being told straight away and sprang into action, scooping up his foster child and getting him dressed and out the door in a matter of five minutes. but he doesn’t do any of that. instead, it takes kunpimook gently nudging him and jaebum shifting to rub taehyung’s back to make him even register that he’d been given orders.

“what?”

youngjae doesn’t repeat himself, instead turns to look at yugyeom, who’s still got a hold on his arm. “help jinyoung pack and get out. I need jackson and bambam to stay with me. you two are going to be invaluable.”

jaebum shifts to pick taehyung up bridal style, holding the five-year-old close to his chest, and under mark’s guidance moves down the hall and enters the small boy’s bedroom. the tattoo artist then grasps jinyoung’s arm and pulls the witch to his feet, snapping him out of his daze by snapping his fingers in front of his face until the two of them lock gazes.

“go and help taehyung calm down and get ready, me and yugyeom will worry about packing you an overnight bag for you, okay?” mark says, already walking jinyoung towards the hall.

yugyeom standing up in the background and moving after the two of them seems to be what snaps the dream weaver out of it. he gives a nod and turns of his own will, walking down the hall and entering his foster child’s bedroom. taehyung’s sitting on the edge of his bed, legs dangling and fists pulling his blanket tight around his small form, staring down at his lap as jaebum tries to comfort him with a soft voice and reassuring touches.

jinyoung steps forward and places a hand on jaebum’s shoulder. “can you pack a small overnight bag for him, hyung?”

the florist raises his eyes and searches jinyoung’s face for a moment. he looks close to grinding his teeth together in thought, but stops just before and gets to his feet instead, moving away from the two of them and grabbing the backpack taehyung had brought with him on his first day. jinyoung nods and sits down next to taehyung, wrapping an arm around the boy’s shoulders gently. immediately, the child turns and grabs a hold of his shirt, burying his face into his side. it’s only now that jinyoung realises he’s trembling.

“it’s okay, you’re alright,” he says softly, moving his other hand so he can rub the boy’s side as reassuringly as possible. “I know it’s a bit of a shock but it’s over now, okay? we don’t have to see any more.”

taehyung doesn’t give him a reaction, just stays with his face pressed against jinyoung’s side. the adult witch wonders if he should pull the other into his lap and hold him close, or if that would only exacerbate things. instead of giving in and coddling the five-year-old, he gives him a squeeze and lowers his head, “we need to get you dressed, okay? we’re going to go out and have some hot chocolate and then we’re going to have a sleepover, okay?”

the child pulls his face away slowly with a sniff after a brief moment of hesitance. he looks up at jinyoung and the man is floored by the look on the little boy’s face. he registers the nod and jumps into action as quickly as he can while still being gentle enough to keep taehyung from freaking any more out. in the end, the five of them are waving goodbye to youngjae, jackson and kunpimook in seven minutes before the door closes behind them.

 

* * *

 

“what do you think youngjae saw in your flat, hyung?” yugyeom asks, twiddling the straw to his chocolate milkshake between his fingers.

the four of them are currently sitting in a café they frequent enough that they’re on first-name basis with the staff. they’re occupying a booth, with mark and jaebum sat on one side and yugyeom taking the seat next to jinyoung when taehyung made it adamant that he isn’t going to leave his foster dad’s lap any time soon. the five-year-old himself has hot chocolate in a to-go cup with its lid in place so spilling it would be more difficult. his little hands struggle to hold the cup occasionally, either putting it down on the table until he can steady his grip or cuddling the warmth to his chest.

jinyoung has an arm wound round taehyung’s middle, and he stares at his own coffee that glares right back, half gone. “I don’t know. I didn’t even know there was a ghost in my flat to begin with.”

yugyeom gives him an exaggerated one shouldered shrug. “they do get around a lot.”

the dream weaver sighs and rests his chin briefly on the child’s head, tightening his grip. their bags are under the table, by his feet, and although taehyung is no longer trembling and walked alongside jinyoung without protest, holding onto the adult’s hand, he had yet to say a word or show any of the enthusiasm that he had had before the whole ritual ordeal.

“well,” jaebum says, and he’s sloshing his iced americano around on the table with one hand, no doubt grinding his back teeth together in thought if the twitch of his jaw is anything to go by. “it wasn’t really… usual, either. or was that just me?”

jinyoung blinks. “usual?”

“she exploded. at the end. or did you miss that?” jaebum points out, eyebrows disappearing under his fringe and making jinyoung want to quite possibly drop kick him into next week.

mark nudges his boyfriend without even looking into jinyoung’s direction, instead surveying the inside of the shop, and jinyoung both loves and hates how well the tattoo artist knows him. “don’t speak like that to jinyoungie, jaebum-ah.”

they lapse into silence after that, each of them concentrating on their own drink and thinking over the events in their own minds. because now that jinyoung doesn’t need to worry too much about taehyung, about the boy suffering from shock right after the ritual and seeing him more or less functioning, jinyoung now has the chance to reflect back on things he himself missed when he was still trying to return to himself.

mark had been deathly pale when he’d stood up and moved to help jinyoung to his feet. he was sure, now, possibly, that jaebum had felt ice-cold beneath his hand when he’d touched his shoulder back in taehyung’s room not half an hour ago. youngjae had looked exhausted, yugyeom the epitome of panic. jackson and kunpimook hadn’t registered too much in his sight, in his mind, and he can’t help but kick himself at the idea of having missed something. well, normally he wouldn’t care. when taking part in a ritual like this, it’s usual for the participants to suffer from some kind of after effects of the memories they watched. which is why jinyoung had returned to himself with his eyes burning, practically crying where he’d sat.

taehyung shifts in his lap and he lifts his head, loosening his hold just slightly. the five-year-old places his hot chocolate on the table and grabs one of the cookies they’d bought gently. he takes a small bite, the crunching loud despite the murmur that lives inside the cafe. with the cookie apparently being up to par, the child shifts until he’s sat sideways in the dream weaver’s lap, curling up against his chest as much as possible.

“do you think,” mark says, letting his gaze return to his friends once more, “do you think it’s possible that there might have been something else?”

yugyeom swallows his mouthful of milkshake. “like what? another ghost that’s tormenting the ghost that was being mean to taehyung-ah?”

at the mention of his name, the small boy flicks his eyes up to yugyeom and then to mark, locking gazes with the eldest witch. he continues to eat his cookie quietly and does nothing to the relief that washes over mark’s face. sweet treats always helped beginners in rituals come back to themselves safely if they still felt disconnected. and if not, it was still a nice bonus.

“can you rule it out?” mark says, looking content at yugyeom’s lack of an answer. he shifts about on his side of the booth and moves closer to jaebum, a little sigh leaving his lips when an arm wraps around his shoulders. “taehyung-ah, do you remember seeing any other people like that woman in jinyoungie’s flat?”

the five-year-old straightens his back and raises his head enough that he can look at mark properly when he answers. jinyoung wraps both his arms around the small body and relaxes back in his booth, suddenly feeling very tired. “there, um, there was one. he was really mean and scary. he kept shouting at me in the middle of the night and wouldn’t let me sleep, so I went to jinyoung-hyung’s room, and he let me sleep there.”

jinyoung blinks, looking down at the top of taehyung’s head. “that’s why you came into my room? I thought you had a nightmare.”

the only way he could explain the manner in which taehyung looked at him was shyly, even if there was a little bit of guilt underlining his expression. “I… I didn’t know how to explain him. he looked like a nightmare, so… so I just thought…”

“hey, hey, hey,” jinyoung says and gives the boy a gentle squeeze. he waits until he’s got taehyung looking at him again and offers a small smile. “it’s okay. it doesn’t matter why you were scared, you came to me and you felt better, yeah?”

taehyung nods slowly.

“that’s all that matters. we know what it was now, yeah?” jinyoung smiles a little wider at the second nod he gets and he relaxes once more, still keeping his arms around the five-year-old.

“yeah, taehyung-ah,” yugyeom says, ruffling the boy’s hair and smiling at him, lips parting to show teeth and bunch his cheeks up. “you don’t need to worry about being scared when jinyoung-hyung is here to take care of you!”

jaebum snorts, mark kicks him under the table, and jinyoung doesn’t try very hard not to laugh at the dirty look he sends the oldest. shaking his head, the dream weaver nicks a cookie for himself and takes a bite out of it, hiding his full mouth behind his hand when he speaks. “I don’t know where we’re going to stay tonight though. where do you think the nearest hotel is?”

he looks sharply to his left when he hears a snort and resists the urge to smack the younger witch upside the head. “what are you talking about? you’re going to stay the night at my place.”

“at your place,” jinyoung repeats.

“yeah.” yugyeom shoots taehyung a smile and nudges the five-year-old playfully with his elbow, managing to get a tentative smile that only grows when he starts tickling the child’s sighs. “you want to sleepover at mine, don’t you, taehyung-ah? it’ll be so cool!”

“yugyeom,” jinyoung starts, voice presenting a warning.

“oh, come on, hyung,” the witch whines, pouting exaggeratedly and looking like the worst lost puppy in the world. period. “hotels don’t have wiis or games for taehyung to play with. you’ll be bored with nothing to do. but if you come over to _my house_ ,” yugyeom says, now turning to speak to taehyung, poking his knee, “you can play all the games you want until bed and you’ll even make a new friend!”

taehyung eyes yugyeom owlishly, jaw slightly slack at the word _friend_. “new friend?”

the older witch nods. “I have a younger brother who’s about six. he loves meeting people and can always do with more friends.”

mark and jaebum’s faces register nothing more than fond amusement when jinyoung looks over at them, tracing the curve of their smiles and softness in their gazes. it’s honestly a bit of an enigma how a little boy could make the seven of them so weak and ready to fight for him after being in their lives for only just over a month. he wonders if this is what had been missing from their little group; an even littler person.

“jinyoung-hyung,” taehyung says, tapping his hand on the dream weaver’s cheek and looking up at him expectantly. “can we sleep at yugyeom-hyung’s house tonight? I… I want to make a new friend.”

and jinyoung’s weakness towards taehyung and whatever taehyung asks for when he’s like that; a small, shy five-year-old witch who hadn’t known about the possibilities of magic until now, with crumbs around his mouth and a faint hot chocolate outline around his lips, is the only reason why, half an hour later, almost forty minutes, he finds himself sitting on yugyeom’s sofa, having said goodbye to his mother, watching taehyung stare wide-eyed at seokjin’s toys that he insists on bringing into the living room to show the five-year-old and jinyoung.

he blinks and looks over at yugyeom with a blank expression, only to be met by one of the biggest grins he’s seen to date. “if the kid’s going to be in your charge for a long time, he might as well get familiar with those who are going to be family, huh?”

“ah, jinyoung-ssi?”

the dream weaver looks back to the two and spies seokjin standing a few feet away, fingers fidgeting with a stuffed mario plushy in his hands. shaking his head briefly, he smiles and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “yes, seokjin-ah?”

“um, I was wondering if it would be okay if taehyungie could come to my room? I wanna show him all the books I’ve got!”

it might be less that jinyoung is weak for kids when they’re vulnerable and more that he’s just weak for kids in general, because the smile on his face is no longer forced and instead feels like the most subconscious, natural reaction he could ever give. so he just nods.

seokjin grins wide, mouth pushing ever so slightly to the left, and his eyes sparkle as he lets go of mario with one hand, grasping taehyung’s and pulling the younger boy with him to the hall excitedly.

“seokjinnie!” yugyeom calls after them and the six-year-old stumbles to a stop, answering with a “yeah?”. “what do you say?”

“oh!” seokjin steps forward a few steps and bows. “thank you jinyoung-ssi!”

jinyoung just continues to smile when yugyeom says. “how about after you’ve shown taehyung-ah your books, you bring some colouring books down and you can show us why dogs should be allowed to be purple and the grass pink?”

“yeah!”

“okay!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay but yugyeom on soundcloud. i'm so fucking— it's _so good. so goddamn good._ the only reason i couldn't listen to it too much today was because i had to finish this to post and it is not appropriate for a fic about kids. like no.
> 
> and i'm obsessed with music box/piano covers of bts songs. just. fyi. those are rlly nice to listen to when reading this i think. idk towards the end i listened to nothing else lmao.
> 
> hmu or scream at me on [tumblr](http://www.untitledmoon.tumblr.com).


	4. lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, i'm sorry this took so long!! visiting unis and their cities is a lot more draining than you think it is. and i'm also sorry this chapter is a little shorter than the others but there's a reason for that!! i have an idea about the next chapter that will hopefully make up for this one's length... and it also introduces on of my biases so. soon i'll have two biases in this story to play around with lmao.
> 
> i hope you enjoy!!
> 
> —mack

everything considered, taehyung feels very icky right now.

he’s made a new friend, though, and even been taken to seokjin’s room — he has a bunkbed! it’s so cool! — to look at all the books and toys he has that he decided wouldn’t be taken to the living room. and the toys are all cool, taehyung loves every single one of them. he’s not jealous, because there’s a lot here and he feels just a little overwhelmed by the sheer amount of things at his fingertips. figuratively. because they’re still seokjin’s.

after telling taehyung that he can sleep in the bottom bunk tonight if he wants — because seokjin takes turns sleeping in both bunks, and right now it’s the week of sleeping in the top bunk. taehyung doesn’t question it, because it makes sense. if he had two beds, he’d take turns sleeping in each of them — they grab a colouring book each after much deliberation and make two trips each to bring down to the living room every single one of seokjin’s colours. he has a lot, taehyung sees. he has feltip pens, and crayons, and pencils, and paints. but they don’t bring the paints down, because seokjin says that you can see them on the other side of the page and it ruins in the picture on the other side.

and now, taehyung is sitting on the floor, shoulders slumped and hand holding a half-scrunched up tissue, just watching seokjin as the six-year-old purses his lips in concentration, making sure every mark of the pink coloured pencil stays within the lines. he thinks his mouth might be hanging open a little as he just stares, because seokjin looks up and takes his tissue from his hand to wipe at his chin.

“don’t drool,” seokjin says, scrunching up the tissue in his little hand and then clumsily wiping at taehyung’s nose, too, for good measure. “you need to swallow drool. staying highd— hid— water is important, taehyungie.”

taehyung blinks but obediently closes his mouth, trying to take the tissue from seokjin so he can stuff it in his pocket where he’s keeping all the tissues he’s been using, but his new friend is stubborn. “okay, hyung.”

“give me all your tissues,” seokjin says.

he then reaches for taehyung’s pocket at the same time the five-year-old does, pulling out any tissues he can reach. two minutes later, seokjin has toddled to the kitchen with snotty tissues in his hands to dump them in the bin and returned with a whole kitchen roll that he had to stand on his tiptoes and almost scale the kitchen to get.

seokjin resumes his colouring after he sits down and gives taehyung the kitchen roll, who feels very content to just sit there, sniffling every few minutes, cuddling the kitchen roll to his chest. the older boy doesn’t take much notice until he’s finished colouring two more petals of the flower carefully, not a single bit of colour outside of the lines.

the six-year-old blinks. “are you not going to colour in?”

taehyung blinks, too, and looks down at the colouring book he’d picked out as if he’s seeing it for the first time. “um.”

seokjin grabs an orange pencil and holds it out to taehyung. when he gets more of a blank stare, he insists by giving his little fist a small shake. “you’re orange. you should take it.”

“I’m orange?”

the older boy nods. “you look like orange to me. happy and warm.”

taehyung doesn’t say anything when he unwraps one of his arms from the kitchen roll so he can take the orange pencil, looking from it to back up at his new friend’s face. seokjin looks very proud of himself, a triumphant smile on his face, and grabs the pink pencil once more to finish his flower. taehyung watches him again, focusing on how the pink never really strays from the black lines and all he can think is that seokjin must have had a lot of practice.

his attention is slowly drawn from his friend’s colouring to the pencil in his own small fist, and something like determination grows in him. he shuffles closer to his colouring book and opens it gently. it isn’t his book, so he needs to be careful. it’s seokjin’s book, and seokjin wouldn’t want him to bend any of the pages. he likes seokjin, so he likes seokjin’s stuff.

there are a few pictures that have already been coloured in, and they range from very neat to a little messier, but taehyung is sure that the practice has paid off. because seokjin is very good now. he finds a picture of three children happily dancing together and decides that the girl’s hair is going to be orange after much deliberation. cuddling with the kitchen roll proves to be hard as he goes a little outside of the lines so he very gently places it next to him.

the two boys sit in silence as they colour. taehyung takes longer than seokjin does, if only because he’s very careful with which colours he wants to pick out and put where. colouring is hard, when you’re trying to be neat and follow in your friend’s footsteps. but he tries his best, chewing gently on his tongue and trapping his bottom lip between his teeth in concentration as he goes. when the two of them finish, seokjin’s is still neater than taehyung’s, but the six-year-old gasps when he spies taehyung’s.

“that one looks like me!” he whisper-yells, pointing a chubby finger at the boy on the right.

taehyung smiles shyly, because he may or may not have coloured the boy in to look like seokjin, even going so far as to crudely draw the anchor his friend has on his t-shirt. “it is you.”

“and this one’s you!” seokjin says, pointing to the other boy in the picture. he looks at taehyung with a wide grin and wraps his arms around his friend. “this is so cool!”

taehyung beams, smile turning box-like and scrunching his eyes up. seokjin smiles back until he notices the five-year-old’s nose running and tuts, grabbing the kitchen roll clumsily and patting at taehyung’s nose with maybe a little more force than was necessary, but at six years, he still hasn’t quite learned what _smooth_ is.

when seokjin has set the scrunched up bit of kitchen roll aside, he notices the girl in the picture and jabs a finger at her. “who’s that?”

“I don’t know,” taehyung says, staring down at the girl with his friend. he shrugs jerkily, reaching for his kitchen roll and hugging it to his chest once more. “but— but I made her orange.”

his new friend nods sagely. “she does look happy. you even made her cheeks red!”

he gets another hug for his attention to detail and taehyung is beginning to think that maybe his own cheeks are starting to turn a little red. but instead, he manages to convince seokjin to colour one more drawing — a drawing that taehyung is going to pick out — while he watches from the sidelines contentedly. and it’s all going smoothly, the five-year-old flicking carefully through both books they’ve brought down to try and find something for seokjin to colour in when he comes across the portrait of a family.

there’s a mother and a father with two sons, huddling together with big smiles on their faces as they just fit in the drawn frame. it’s been designed to look like it’s hanging on a wall, with a hideous wallpaper print behind it. but taehyung focuses on the way the parents are leaning against each other, happily cuddling a child close each.

before he knows what’s happening, his face has scrunched up and he’s trying very hard not to cry loudly.

seokjin, for his credit, looks alarmed at the sight of his new friend crying on the living room floor. he pushes his colours out the way to get closer to taehyung and gently tugs on his shoulder. “taehyungie?”

the five-year-old stubbornly keeps his head bowed but his shoulders are shaking. his whole body’s trembling and he doesn’t really know that seokjin has left, running into the kitchen to try and find the adults until there’s a large hand on his back — way too big to be seokjin’s — and the colouring book is being gently eased out of his grip.

“hey,” jinyoung says softly, and he’s sitting next to taehyung. he’s rubbing up and down the kid’s back and it looks like he’s trying to see his face. “taehyung-ah, what’s wrong?”

taehyung continues to stubbornly not look at jinyoung’s face, but this time shakes his head and tries to curl himself up in a ball. and jinyoung lets him. the hand doesn’t stop rubbing at his back, and it’s soothing and somehow just ends up making taehyung feel worse until he lets out the first sob of the night. it startles seokjin, who taehyung can hear talking to yugyeom a little bit away, but jinyoung doesn’t say anything. instead, he pulls the small boy into his lap and cuddles him close to his chest.

taehyung’s not really sure why people are stubborn when they’re crying and someone’s finally holding them. or, you know, making an effort to cheer them up in general. he had quite a few friends when he was still at home that yelled when they cried because they didn’t want people to see them like that. he’s always thought it was stupid. and he reasons with himself that the only reason he didn’t want seokjin and jinyoung to see him earlier was because he thought he could not burst into tears. apparently he was wrong.

the small medium turns his head and fists jinyoung’s shirt after wrapping his arms around his neck. there’s a hand cradling the back of his head and an arm around his waist and he feels tiny. he feels tiny and safe and doesn’t care that he’s crying any more. because jinyoung is murmuring to him quietly and he’s not asking what’s scared taehyung into crying any more, instead he’s just telling him that _it’s okay, everything’s fine, hyungie’s here and so is yugyeomie and seokjinie, you’re safe, we’ve all got you, just let it out._

as a five-year-old, he doesn’t really have a good grasp on how time works yet, so when it feels like he’s been crying for forever, he thinks he’s been crying for forever. his nose is in a weird state of running too much and blocked so heavily that the bridge between his eyes hurts and threatens to give him a headache. but he slowly pulls back and sits, slumped, in jinyoung’s lap while the dream weaver gently cleans his face with kitchen roll.

“are you okay, taehyung?” jinyoung asks softly, one hand cupping the boy’s chin so he doesn’t turn his head away as he gently pinches his nose with kitchen roll. “blow.”

taehyung blows as hard as he can and waits until his nose and upper lip are snot free to speak. “I miss mummy and daddy.”

the five-year-old timidly chews on his tongue when he spies the conflicted emotions running over jinyoung’s face. and he feels bad. he feels bad because jinyoung has been real nice to him since he’s been here, and he’s made everything fun and he’s now got new friends! he has new friends because of jinyoung. and he’s managed to sleep when he’s scared because of jinyoung. so he feels bad, because he thinks saying something like that makes him seem like he doesn’t appreciate jinyoung. which he does.

“I see,” jinyoung says, and he looks sad. he looks sad and taehyung panics, because this is his fault. it’s his fault for missing family—

“I-I don’t love them!” he says quickly, and if his throat wasn’t sore and his nose blocked, he’s sure that he would probably have shouted. jinyoung looks confused now, and taehyung brings his hands away from where they’d fisted the back of the adult’s shirt to tug at his own fingers. “I mean… I miss them! I don’t…”

the dream weaver holds his sides gently and gives him a squeeze. “hey. hey, taehyung-ah.” he doesn’t say anything else, and the five-year-old feels even guiltier when he locks eyes with his foster dad. “it’s okay to miss your family, alright? and it’s okay not to love them. or to love them. or to not miss them. it’s alright. don’t feel like you _should_ be doing anything, okay?”

taehyung chews on his bottom lip and curls one hand around two of his fingers uncertainly. he gives a small, jerky nod, and he must not look relieved at all because jinyoung hugs him close again. the hand on his back returns and he shuffles until he can lean press himself against the man, making himself as small as possible.

seokjin slowly walks over and walks around the two until he can sit on the floor of the side that taehyung’s facing. the five-year-old says nothing, just sniffs, and takes his friend’s hand when it’s offered. the six-year-old has to shuffle closer on his bottom until his little knees are pressing against jinyoung’s thigh, but he refuses to let go. the grip on taehyung’s hand almost hurts, but he doesn’t let go, either. this is the first friend that has seen him cry and stayed with him through it. seokjin went and got jinyoung.

“taehyungie,” seokjin says quietly, and taehyung blinks. “we can be family, right?”

taehyung blinks again. “huh?”

“we can be brothers,” seokjin says, and he says it with more confidence this time, going so far as to nod and shake their joined hands. “you can be my little brother and I can be your older brother.”

the five-year-old stares, eyes wide. he looks down at their hands, then back up at seokjin’s face. “but— but you’re hyung. already.”

the other boy nods fiercely. “I can be family hyung, right? I want to be family hyung.”

“family hyung…”

jinyoung’s grip on taehyung has loosened enough for him to have his arms looped lazily around the small boy, back resting against the sofa. he’s watching the two of them closely, taehyung finds out, when he turns his head to look at the adult. he sees nothing other than an incredibly soft smile on jinyoung’s face.

so he turns back to seokjin with a smile of his own, pushing on jinyoung’s chest so he can sit up straight. “you can be family hyung.”

seokjin beams at him and eagerly accepts the hug taehyung gives him.

 

* * *

 

although for the rest of the day taehyung doesn’t smile as much as he usually does, and there’s this uncertain air around the five-year-old that has jinyoung wondering whether taehyung knows or suspects that his parents don’t want him or not, seokjin doesn’t let go of his hand for as long as he can, doing whatever they’re doing, and it makes jinyoung’s heart feel heavy in his chest and so very present in his body he’s amazed he doesn’t have a bruise. the six-year-old has taken such a quick liking to taehyung, making an effort to ask taehyung for his opinion before they do anything and telling silly jokes that only the two kids find funny.

it continues on until yugyeom and jinyoung have to put the two youngsters to bed, making sure they brush their teeth properly and get changed without too many distractions. which is still amazing, even with a sick and down taehyung. with a promise of sleeping after being read a bedtime story, jinyoung and yugyeom close the bathroom door behind them and wander over to the kitchen.

“so,” yugyeom starts, pulling the fridge open and letting his eyes roam over the items on the shelves as if he’d never seen the inside of his own fridge before. “what’s consuming your every thought this time?”

jinyoung freezes where he’s leaning against the counter, blinking once in the direction of his youngest friend. “excuse me?”

the other waves a hand at him lazily. “you have that look on your face that you only get when you’re getting too far stuck in your own head.” yugyeom sends a look over his shoulder. “you in the mood for some wine?”

jinyoung stares, lips parted and mouth ever so slightly open before he shrugs exaggeratedly and rubs at his face. “yeah, wine would be good.”

the two of them stand in silence as yugyeom pulls an already opened bottle of red wine out of the fridge and two wine glasses from a cupboard off to the side, close to the sink. jinyoung takes the glass offered to him moments later and nurses it close to his chest, eyes unfocused while staring aimlessly at the handle of a lower cupboard. or, at least, he had been staring at it until his mind started wandering down path after path.

a hand on his shoulder makes his jump, wine dangerously close to sloshing over the rim of his glass and staining his shirt. staring at yugyeom’s face, the first thing he notices is the already redder tint to the man’s lips that give away the mouthful of wine he’s already had. yugyeom says, “let’s sit in the living room, yeah?”

jinyoung nods and doesn’t comment on yugyeom swiping the bottle before they leave the kitchen.

he sinks down on the sofa, letting himself slide down until he’s slouching and dangerously close to spilling his red wine all over himself. he must look distraught, because for once yugyeom says nothing nor takes his wine away from him, just sits a foot away and leans back, taking another mouthful himself.

and jinyoung’s thinking about taehyung, and how horrible it must be to be five and see ghosts but not be able to talk to his parents about it. he’s thinking about telling taehyung that his parents don’t want him anymore, and he can feel the anxiety start to rise in his chest, clawing slowly at his throat and sucking every bit of moisture out of his mouth. a childish part of him doesn’t want to have to tell him, would much rather keep his mouth shut on the topic.

and then, jinyoung’s thinking about telling this to yugyeom; about expressing his problems to the young witch while the two of them are lounging on the sofa, with red wine in glasses and stains on their lips. he snorts. he snorts again when yugyeom looks over and laughs quietly, lazily, into his hand as he rubs his face yet again.

“you okay, hyung?” yugyeom mutters.

cupping his own cheek, jinyoung traces the outline of his friend’s tv with his eyes. “I will be. I guess.”

“you know,” the taller of the two says and he shifts his position so he can face jinyoung better, “it was going to be hard no matter what. foster care. and you knew that.”

“I knew that,” jinyoung repeats distractedly into his wine glass.

“we talked a lot about it, do you remember? those times you didn’t think you could do it because of what that meant telling the child. and it’s not an easy thing to do.” yugyeom shuffles closer until his knee is pressing into jinyoung’s outer thigh, and it’s unusually comforting. “nobody finds it easy to tell a child why they’re not with their biological parents. but it’s not like you raising them is going to make it worse.”

the dream weaver stares at his friend’s face deeply, lips pursed around glass. he parts them enough to take a small mouthful and then pushes himself up to sit properly. he swallows and rests his hands in his lap, eyes now on the burgundy of the alcohol.

“hyung,” the hedge witch murmurs, tilting his head a little. “you took me in when I first came here, remember? you practically raised me—”

“everyone else pitched in, too,” jinyoung interrupts.

“bammie’s my age, jaebum wasn’t in the picture for a few years, and youngjae kept popping in and out.” yugyeom pokes jinyoung’s arm, and keeps poking until the two of them lock eyes. “you and mark were the only two who were a complete and utter constant that acted like any kind of parental figure for me for years. and even then, mark wasn’t very sure, and he was easily persuaded by jackson.”

jinyoung’s voice is small when he says, “jackson means well.”

the other nods. “yeah, he does. he always means well. but that doesn’t always make for a good growing up environment, does it?”

“what are you getting at, yugyeom.”

the younger witch doesn’t comment on the exhaustion that’s crept into his voice, and it’s a nice move, really, it is. because jinyoung doesn’t think he’d be able to try and pretend that today hasn’t drained a lot of his stored up energy. instead, there are fingers combing through his hair gently, pads of fingers and edges of nails scratching gently at his scalp and he feels his eyes close without consent. but he trusts yugyeom, so it’s okay.

“I’m me mostly from what you did in the last few years,” yugyeom continues, and he’s speaking quietly, murmuring really. jinyoung can feel his warm breath on his cheek and his body relaxes further. “you helped me accept that having differing opinions from your parents is okay, that growing up sometimes meant fucking up, and that not every mistake is as big as we make them out to be.”

“is that all I’m good for,” jinyoung snorts, a small curl to his lips, “life lessons?”

the fingers in his hair move until they’re accompanied by a palm and suddenly yugyeom’s cupping the back of his head gently. “among other things, but that’s your main job.”

jinyoung grins and slaps his friend’s thigh, letting his hand rest there and follow the curve of it afterwards. the two sit in silence like that, the dream weaver with his eyes still closed and yugyeom most probably tracing jinyoung’s profile as he is want to do with all his friends in close proximity. the wine in the glasses is topped up whenever it’s running low and positions are changed until by the end of the night, the bottle is empty except for an inch of burgundy liquid and the two witches are curled up together on one end of the sofa, unconscious.

 

* * *

 

in order to be fair, we have to say that it is rather difficult to     identify what is normal. for a lot of people, normal would be going to work at an office, or a university, or in a coffee shop. normal would be aching feet after being on them all day, or finally sitting down to a lunch they’ve been waiting for every day that week. and for some of those people, normal is routine, and for some of those people, normal is getting on a plane every other week to explore a new country or new city of the same country.

for a smaller group of people, normal is pets that see into other dimensions, taking care of plants that talk or play with children, suddenly finding a grimoire that most certainly isn’t there’s lodged behind their bookcase. if you think down to it, normal is what happened to jinyoung and taehyung last night; there was an unwanted guest staying in their home and they had to evacuate in order for a close friend to deal with it. honestly, to be fair, it wasn’t much more than an inconvenience to have to find somewhere else to stay while the whole ordeal went down.

if jinyoung would spare a thought, he’d think about how _un_ -normal his whole evening had been to anyone from the first sector. it would be difficult to tell a human friend about the annoyance of needing to room somewhere else because someone who died forty years ago, or three hundred, as sometimes the case may be, decided that they wanted to be a stubborn bastard and witness the world change after their time was up.

so, realistically, the four of them — jinyoung, yugyeom, seokjin and taehyung — getting stopped by a woman dressed in black clothing that hasn’t been seen for at least a century, veil covering her face, could be considered normal, too. in one world or another.

“you can help me,” the woman says.

jinyoung blinks as she stares at each of them expectantly, her hands clasped in front of her at chest level. there are glittering jewels on her fingers, surrounded by silver, and her nails are long, too long, actually, and in dire need of a cut. jinyoung thinks he can see dirt clinging beneath him and it takes a physical effort not to show any kind of disgust towards this little detail. yugyeom’s hand feels suddenly warm and present on the small of his back and jinyoung has no doubt that he’s reached out with his other hand to pull the boys just a little closer.

“we can help you?” jinyoung says with a quizzical expression, squinting just a little in an effort to look beyond the woman’s veil to find some kind of identifying feature. he finds nothing, staring at what he can only describe as an almost pixelated face.

the woman steps closer, voice a conspiratorial whisper. “it’s my husband, you see. he’s not doing well. he suffers. and because he suffers, I suffer. my children suffer. but you can help me.”

the crowd in the street doesn’t show any signs of noticing what’s going on, parting around the small group and not sparing them more glances than you would expect of nosy pedestrians who don’t actually have the time to eavesdrop properly. and it’s only that nonchalance makes jinyoung think that the woman might not be as big of a threat as he thought originally. because even in a world where normal can be the inconvenience of having a non-benign ghost in your home, or suddenly having to take care of a small necromancer, or witnessing two of your closest friends suddenly get together seemingly out of nowhere, a woman approaching asking for help can’t be that weird.

but yugyeom shakes his head, the action firm and offering not an inch of negotiating. “we can’t help you. so now, if you’ll excuse us—”

“but you have to help me!” the woman insists, voice high-pitched and hissing, stepping in their way when they try to move around her. her veils jerks when she moves her head a little too quickly, nearly as if she’s trying to lock eyes with one of them. “nobody else understands, believes! he is suffering and I cannot take much more of it!”

“we can’t help you,” yugyeom repeats and he makes another move to push past her, guiding jinyoung in front of him and pulling the kids behind him, when the woman lets out and grabs jinyoung’s arm.

“ _ah—!_ ”

he yanks it out of her grip and takes a step back in under a second, bumping into yugyeom but not caring, instead cradling his arm close to his chest. his nerves are still sparking, still tingling from where she’d touched him. it wasn’t a nice tingling, though, not the kind of tingling you get just before your foot goes numb. no. it was the tingling that flares up a single second after you touch something too hot and the full effect of burning your skin takes place.

yugyeom’s grip on jinyoung’s back changes, fingers now curling into the material of his jacket tightly. if jinyoung looked, he’s sure he’d see narrowed eyes and a set jaw that’s just shy of jaebum’s own expression of anger. but he doesn’t look, allows him to place his trust in yugyeom that he has got a good hold on the kids, because he doesn’t want to look away from the woman. the woman who’s still got her hand outstretched from where he yanked it away.

she looks pleading.

“guys!”

the familiarity shakes surprise through the two adult witches’ systems and they snap their attention over to a familiar body pushing his way through the crowd. kunpimook smiles at them wide and waves them over with a ringed hand, stopping ten feet away from them and not quite turned to face them all full on.

before jinyoung can even think, yugyeom is pushing him forward and he’s almost tripping over his own feet. but then kunpimook is there in front of him and he has a hold on the dream weaver’s upper arms and he’s still _smiling_.

“oh guys, i’m so glad i found you!” he says, gushes more like, as if he hadn’t seen the four of them just yesterday. his hands drop from jinyoung’s upper arms but he loops one of his little fingers with one of jinyoung’s. “i’ve been looking for you everywhere, i have news to share with you.”

the whole situation is way too peculiar, prickling at the dream weaver’s unease. he wants to ask, but he thinks better of it, thinks better of trying to ask outright why one of his oldest friends is acting completely out of it after such a weird interaction. so instead, he goes with, “what—”

“come on!” kunpimook interrupts, dragging him quickly away. and with their little fingers still interlocked, jinyoung doesn’t have much of a choice. his jumper pulls a little and settles at the base of his throat when he moves, reminding him that yugyeom still has a strong hold on the back of it.

kunpimook leads them down the street without stopping, only turning his head briefly from side to side when they come to to roads they need to cross, coming very close both times to getting them all run over if it wasn’t for the reflexes of the drivers, stopping just in time. it doesn’t stop them from getting beeped at, rude hand gestures and on one occasion, a handful of insults floating their way out of an open window. but kunpimook doesn’t address the drivers.

“you musn’t talk to people like that, jinyoung-hyung,” kunpimook says a little later once they’ve stopped. he turns to face them properly, eyes lingering on the eldest’s face. “i thought we taught you better.”

the dream weaver snorts freely and crosses his arms over his chest, levelling the other with a look. “you taught me. right.”

kunpimook raises his eyebrows. “what, do you think raising people is a one-sided thing?”

“of course not,” jinyoung snaps, shoulders rising to brush his earlobes as he huffs, shuffling a little on his feet. “I’d like to think I know a bit more about magic than you do.”

seokjin tugs on his brother’s jacket. “gyeomie-hyungie.”

kunpimook and jinyoung lock gazes and stand there for quiet seconds that include yugyeom pulling his brother closer and flickering his gazes between his friends. he sighs when nothing changes after fifteen seconds and chooses that moment to speak up.

“look, what’s happened has happened, there’s no use crying over spilt milk. so can we just move on. please?”

the dream weaver is the first to look away, changing his focus to their shoes. “what did she want, anyway?”

“that’s not important,” kunpimook says nonchalantly. he pushes himself up onto his toes to look over jinyoung’s shoulder at the crowds behind them, scanning them for any sign of the same woman in black. “what’s important is that you can finally learn from yugyeom for once, rather than following your own ideas.”

“what.”

seokjin tries once more, tugging on his brother’s sleeve, bottom lip wobbling. “gyeomie-hyungie.”

the heavily tattooed witch drops himself back onto the sole of his feet and gestures to his best friend’s face, his own expression screaming _‘duh’_ , “he didn’t give away any emotion other than _go away_ , which in this situation, is a good thing. you already hung around her too long, but it was in open air, so you should be fine.”

jinyoung snaps his gaze between the two youngsters, his own for once clouding into confusion. “what are you two talking about?”

“hyung,” yugyeom says, hand cupping the back of his younger brother’s head gently. “when was the last time you hung around other creatures.”

the dream weaver’s lack of response is telling enough.

yugyeom raises his eyebrows at him and kunpimook shakes his head. “whatever, it doesn’t matter. what matters is the fact that none of you have been in close contact with her for very long, or in an enclosed space. so you can worry about a lesson later.”

“alright,” jinyoung says slowly, shoulders sloping down once more. “what did you have to tell us, anyway?”

“huh?” kunpimook blinks.

“you were screaming at us? said you’ve been looking for us? ring any bells?”

“oh!”

“gyeomie-hyungie!”

the sob makes the three adults jump in their spots, kunpimook close to having a heart attack and jinyoung inches away from punching someone in the teeth. the three of them ae a little more than perplexed when they look down to see a red-faced, snotty seokjin, tears briming his eyes as his little fists cling tightly onto the hem of yugyeom’s sleever.

"taehyungie’s gone!” 


	5. help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this one is a little shorter than the others, i think?? but trying to write it while following a five-year-old means i can't be as detailed as usual or sneak in things for him to notice. i do hope i manage to do it some kind of justice, though!! and it shows off taehyung's character a bit more.
> 
> plus we get to meet yet another bts kid because i am weak, fight me. hope this makes up for the wait!! and thank you so much for the encouraging messages.
> 
> i’d also like to thank [ask-bts-stuff](http://www.ask-bts-stuff.tumblr.com) for letting me use nicknames they’ve come up with for two of the bts kids.
> 
> —mack

taehyung likes helping people.

when he was with his friends, he would always be the first to offer his involvement when he saw them struggling or in need of another small body for whatever they had planned. it is also the reason why he would constantly be darting this way and that if his friends ever got sick, taking the remedies their parents would make to them, holding their hands when they got scared of a spider or heights.

there was one time where a girl in his kindergarten class wasn’t tall enough to reach the tub of feltip pens but refused to stand on a chair in order to get them because she was scared she’d fall off. and taehyung, not liking seeing people upset or the fact that nobody else would grab a chair in order to get the colours down for her, already distracted by their own pieces of art, dragged a chair over and clambered on top of it to grab the tub of feltip pens. he got a hug and a kiss on the cheek for his helpfulness and, if he’s honest, he didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

his helpfulness also shows when it comes to the dead. it would be a lie if he admitted to knowing he was a medium of some form in his younger years, when a large array of people he didn’t normally interact with suddenly turned up in his line of sight no matter where he was; the school, his home, the park, the supermarket. suddenly, there were people from all different races, ages and emotional states keeping him company. so he did the only thing he could; he tried to talked to them.

some of them thought he was cute and would coo, mumble or whine about it. some outright ignored him, others cried loudly upon being recognised and then there were the small group like the horrible ghost that scared him at jinyoung’s home that insulted him and sneered. and even if it was a lot for a child to take in, he never stopped putting himself out there, offering his help to people who looked like they needed it. because the reward of seeing someone happy with him made him feel happy. and nothing’s better than feeling happy, not for a five-year-old.

so that’s the reason behind where he is now, stumbling along behind the woman dressed in black, his wrist in her grip, after having offered his help because she looked really sad. really, really sad, and jinyoung wasn’t going to help her. so taehyung decided he would. and now, there’s a house in front of them, a messy garden that looks like it was neat a month ago, and he’s not sure how he got there, but he’s going to help, he’s going to get to the problem, so that’s okay.

the woman doesn’t let go of his hand when she fiddles around with a pocket in her dress that taehyung hadn’t seen before. he watches her unlock the front door, that looks old and cracked and squeaks when she pushes it open, with a key that looks old and rusted with the head of which looks like a button. she smiles at him as she guides him in first, following behind and closing the door behind her.

“yoongi!” she shouts, and the sound is a little bit on the shrill side, making taehyung jump and wince at the same time. but she turns and smiles at him again, or at least, it feels like she is. taehyung isn’t sure because she still has that veil covering her face. “I’m still very happy you offered to help me out, child, but I don’t know your name.”

taehyung blinks at her, letting his hand fall back to his side when she lets go. “you didn’t ask for my name.”

she just keeps smiling at him and tilts her head, crouching down so she’s closer to his level. and because he’s five, he doesn’t resist the urge to frown, because why is she doing that? she doesn’t need to do that. he can hear her fine from where she’s standing all the way up there. he doesn’t have hearing problems, and he doesn’t need glasses.

“well, I’m asking you now. so, what’s your name?” her voice is sweet and gentle, and taehyung doesn’t know why but it makes him feel uncomfortable.

“uh.”

the appearance of a third voice makes taehyung look to his side instead of at the woman, staring at the boy who’s older than him. he has black hair that looks like it’s only just gotten too long but he hasn’t gotten it cut yet. his fringe twitches whenever he blinks, the tips of his hair caught in his lashes. the boy’s face is impassive and blank enough that it could rival taehyung’s, possibly.

“ah, yoongi,” the woman says, standing up straight. there’s something about her voice that confuses taehyung. it’s not as sweet as when she’s talking to him. it sounds like she doesn’t want to talk to the boy even though she called for him. “I need you to help this little boy, here. he’s offered to help us.”

the boy called yoongi doesn’t look very happy about taehyung’s help, face folding into a frown. but he doesn’t say anything, which confuses the five-year-old even more. he remembers his friends always saying that if someone has something they want to say, they should say it, or trouble will come later. but instead, yoongi says nothing but waves a hand in taehyung’s direction.

“come on, kid,” he mumbles, waiting until taehyung toddles after him to turn and start walking off.

the house makes taehyung think of a fairytale, with the old furniture inside and the layout that looks nothing like jinyoung-hyung’s home or even taehyung’s old home. he wonders why the house is even here, built the way it is. because people don’t live like this any more. it’s not  _ practical _ , like his mum said once. a big word he’d needed to ask what it meant. and now he likes to use it whenever he can.

yoongi leads taehyung further into the house and up some stairs. they creak under their feet just like the front door did. yoongi leads them into what taehyung thinks is his own bedroom and only feels that it he’s right when he sits down on the bed inside without a second thought. because if you were in somebody else’s bedroom, you’d wait until they gave you permission to sit. it’s only polite.

“what’s your name, kid?” yoongi asks.

“taehyung.”

yoongi nods. he shuffles back on his bed and pats the spot next to him before crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the wall. taehyung toddles over and clambers onto the bed, sitting indian style on it and slouching his shoulders just a little. he’s tired by all the walking he’s done, and the bed feels really comfortable under him.

“why did you offer to help?”

“the lady looked really sad,” taehyung says, taking one look at yoongi’s face before ducking his head, pulling at his own fingers. “people aren’t supposed to be sad. being sad isn’t nice. and jinyoung-hyung and yugyeom-hyung didn’t want to help her. I like helping.”

yoongi doesn’t say anything but taehyung looks up after a few seconds to find the boy still watching him. he can’t tell what the older boy’s thinking and it’s making him nervous, tugging on his fingers and chewing on the corner of his bottom lip harshly. “did I do something wrong?”

“don’t do that,” yoongi says instead, reaching out to free the five-year-old’s bottom lip from between his teeth. he only sighs when taehyung takes to licking his lips instead. “you didn’t do bad, taehyung, but you shouldn’t just offer to help people you don’t know. did you meet— did you meet the lady before?”

taehyung shakes his head.

“no. so you don’t know what she’s like. she could have been a very bad person, for all you know.” yoongi raises his eyebrows when taehyung dares to look up at him, feeling something in his chest at the sheepish and embarrassed expression on the child’s face. “so you didn’t do bad, but be careful about who you offer help to, okay?”

taehyung nods. “okay.”

there’s a pause, and then yoongi gently punches taehyung’s shoulder to get his attention. it’s a weirdly friendly thing to do to someone he’s only just met. taehyung likes it. “who are jinyoung- and yugyeom-hyung?”

the five-year-old’s eyes widen and brighten as he sits up a little straighter. “jinyoung-hung is taking care of me! I-I was too much for my mum and dad, I think, so I got to live with jinyoung-hyung! and he’s so cool! he’s really, really nice and reads me a lot of stories and lets me help cook sometimes and watches all my favourite shows and movies with me!” he shifts about until he’s on his knees, leaning forward. “and yugyeom-hyung is the older brother of my best friend, seokjin-hyung!”

yoongi smiles a small smile. “best friend, huh?”

taehyung nods again, now a lot more enthusiastic. “he colours super well! and he hugs me a lot! he—” the five-year-old beams a wide, box-like grin. “he asked to be my family hyung. like a hyung that is my hyung through blood, but we don’t share blood. so he asked my permission, and I gave it to him!”

“he sounds cool.”

“he’s really cool!”

yoongi’s smile drops from his face when the lady calls his name from downstairs. taehyung watches his shoulders slump and a sigh leave his mouth. he doesn’t look sad, so taehyung is hesitant to ask something. before he can say anything, the boy shuffles to the end of the bed and gets to his feet, tugging at his jeans and shirt.

“stay here, okay? and if anyone comes in and asks why you’re here, just say you’re waiting for me, okay?”

taehyung blinks then nods. “okay!”

when yoongi disappears out the door, closing it behind him, taehyung sits patiently on the bed for a minute or so, just looking around the bedroom he’s in. it’s messy and small but there’s a lot of things in it. like posters and games, and there’s a bike leaning against one wall with a helmet hanging from the handlebars. taehyung clambers off the bed and wanders over to the bike, trying to pull it away from the wall. he lets out an ‘oof’ and pushes it back when it turns out too heavy for him.

he toddles over to the desk and pushes around the pages that litter the top of it, unable to read the hangul even if the handwriting was neater. there’s a lot of pages spread out, some together in uneven clumps. he wonders what yoongi’s writing. he hopes they’re stories. maybe he can convince yoongi to read for him, be able to hear original stories that nobody else has. or he hopes nobody else has so he can be the first. he’d like to be first.

soon, he gets bored of looking around the small room, but he refuses to leave. because yoongi asked him to stay and he likes yoongi. yoongi asked him his name and about jinyoung-hyung and seokjin-hyung. he tries his best to stay in yoongi’s room, honestly, he does. and he’s proud of himself because he pulls himself back onto the bed, letting his feet dangle, and looks back at the posters on the walls.

and it’s going well until the sound of crying filters through the door.

taehyung jumps on the spot and whirls around to stare at the door, as if it was the thing that started crying. but instead he’s staring at white paint and the crying sounds a lot like a young woman, not a door. he’s hesitant as he moves towards the door and presses a palm against it, as if he could calm her from there. he chews on his bottom lip and fidgets where he stands.

he feels bad because he’s about to open the door to try and find the woman when it slams open. he stumbles back, knocked to the floor with the force of it, and stares wide-eyed at the figure in front of him. it’s a young lady, crying and trembling.

she looks so sad that taehyung pushes himself up onto his knees and reaches his hands out for her. because hugs always make him feel better when he’s upset, so they should make her feel better when she’s upset. the lady stops her crying for a single second and then collapses in front of him and grasps him close to her chest, burying his face into the top of his head.

her sobs are loud and penetrating with how close she is to his ear and he can’t help but flinch whenever they get too loud, but otherwise he just lets her hug him tightly. she stops crying after a little while and just holds him stubbornly, refusing to let him go, so he just continues to hold her, not sure if he should speak. he thinks he might be a little scared even though he’s hugging the lady.

“taehyung, I thought I told you to stay in my room,” yoongi says when he rounds the doorway out of nowhere and stops just inside of it with a small frown.

the five-year-old blinks at him from over the lady’s shoulder. the lady stands and slinks past yoongi and out the door, not addressing him or touching him. he watches her go in confusion, arms slowly lowering to his lap. when he focuses on yoongi, the boy looks like he’s waiting for some kind of explanation, eyebrows now raised in an unamused fashion.

“well?”

“didn’t you see the lady?” taehyung asks, voice small and quiet.

yoongi’s eyebrows raise even further. he doesn’t turn his head, though, to look after the lady that just disappeared from his bedroom. “lady? did she come and see you again?”

“again?” taehyung wonders, eyes darting to the floor and tracing the wooden slats as he thinks. he doesn’t remember seeing the lady before. “has she been here before?”

the older boy stares silently at taehyung for a moment and then just shakes his head. the little medium wants to ask him what’s wrong, what he’s thinking, but he doesn’t. instead, he pushes himself to his feet and pats awkwardly at his knees.

yoongi enters the room and closes the door behind him. “okay, taehyung, I have something I need you to do, okay?” he sounds a little unsure, and taehyung wants to know why.

he nods, though, back straightening to show he’s giving his full attention. he likes yoongi.

“I want you to remember what jinyoung-hyung and seokjin-hyung look like, okay? I want you to think about what you did with them and what you like about them. can you do that for me?” the older boy is leaning a bit away from the door now, face expectant, and the five-year-old really doesn’t want to let him down.

taehyung tilts his head and chews on his tongue. “now?”

“not now.” yoongi says with a small smile. it wouldn’t show teeth if he wasn’t speaking, but taehyung takes it anyway, because it makes yoongi look nice. “but while you’re here. just do that for me, okay? just keep thinking about them sometimes.”

“okay.” he nods.

yoongi smiles a bit bigger now, eyes curving ever so slightly, too, and taehyung smiles back, box-like and wide. yoongi’s nice to him, so he’ll do as he says.

the bedroom door suddenly opens without a single knock, smacking into yoongi and causing the poor to trip forward. he narrowly misses smacking into taehyung, but moves to stand behind the boy and place a hand on his shoulder once he’s regained his balance. the woman from before, still dressed head to toe in black and still wearing a veil, stands in the doorway. taehyung thinks she’s smiling again but he doesn’t know.

“ah, there you are.” her voice is sweet. but it’s a forced sweet. a sweet taehyung’s mother used to use when she asked him to do something that she thought was too much effort. taehyung doesn’t like it much. he looks up at yoongi’s face and finds the smile from before gone. “yoongi, I need you to go to the kitchen to make lunch with beom-seok, can you do that for me?”

taehyung thinks that yoongi doesn’t look at all interested, let alone happy, about it, but he goes anyway. the five-year-old watches him go, slipping past the bulky black dress, and then turns to look at the woman again. she holds her hand out for him, and when he doesn’t take it, she just waves at him to follow.

“come with me. you want to help, right? my husband’s this way.”

in retrospect, taehyung should probably wonder what exactly a small child of his age and size could possibly  _ do _ to help a woman seemingly in the prime time of adulthood with her head strapped onto her shoulders firmly. but taehyung is only that; a small child. and he likes to help. so even if he knows he can’t do anything, he’s going to offer anyway. because that’s the way he is.

the two of them walk down a hall, trot up some stairs, and then down another hall until the woman stops and opens the second door on the left slowly. taehyung doesn’t fully pay attention, too distracted by the squeaky floorboards beneath his feet and the peeling bottoms of wallpaper. he jerks his head up, tripping over his feet when the woman claps once, loudly. he thinks she’s giving him a stern look but he still doesn’t know, so he just toddles up and waits behind her.

she pokes her head in and taehyung hears her mumbling something, but he’s too busy gazing up at the mirror on the wall, now. there are a lot of things to look at in this house. and he’s behind her now, anyway, so he can look around if he wants to, right? the reflection of the crying lady is standing to one side, gazing at him, parts of her fringe damp and clinging to her lashes, her lower face hidden by a tissue he thinks she’s blowing her nose with.

he jolts out of his focused state when the woman taps him a bit too hard on the shoulder. it was more of a slap than anything, making him jump on the spot. she beckons him into the room and he enters a little reluctantly, small hand rubbing at his shoulder.

it turns out to be a normal looking bedroom, with a bed and a chest of drawers, a cupboard, a desk, bedside tables. there’s a rug beneath his feet and curtains pulled away from the window. it just looks like a normal bedroom. but not a bedroom he’d stay in, he thinks. his bedroom at home is a lot nicer. yoongi’s bedroom is a lot nicer, even if it isn’t as big. he thinks this bedroom seems pretty empty. he doesn’t like that.

“this is my husband,” the woman says. she’s standing next to the bed and gently smoothing her hand over the forehead and hair of the man lying in it. “and he’s terribly ill.”

taehyung toddles over, chewing on the inside of his cheek and swinging his arms just a little more than necessary. he stays a few feet away from the side of the bed and just looks at the man. he looks weak and pale, too pale a skin colour to be healthy for his ethnicity, and he’s shiny with sweat. taehyung feels a little ill just looking at him. he wants to take a bath.

“why’s he ill?” he asks quietly, looking up at the woman.

her hand pauses for a moment and taehyung thinks the smile isn’t there any more. if it ever was. “well,  _ I _ don’t know. that’s why I was  _ asking for help _ . I want help so I can figure out what’s wrong with him and how to fix it. you understand that, don’t you?”

he nods.

“good!” she jerks her hand back from the man’s forehead and then claps both of them together. the sound makes both taehyung and the man wince. “now that you’ve seen him, let’s leave him alone and talk about what’s wrong with him.”

taehyung blinks at her and wanders after her in mild confusion when she marches away from her side of the bed and towards the door. that was quick. very quick. taehyung’s no expect, he knows this, but when he goes to the doctor’s he’s usually in there for a good fifteen minutes. the doctor likes to check that he’s okay all over. he shoots a look over his shoulder at the man in the bed just before he leaves. the man catches his gaze before the door shuts behind them. he looks really sad.

“so!” the woman says, and taehyung now thinks she doesn’t sound as worried as she should be. “what’s wrong with him?”

taehyung shuffles his feet and licks his lips. “I don’t know.”

she pauses, as if she were on a video. it makes taehyung feel uncomfortable. he thinks about jinyoung, about how he held him the night before. when jinyoung comes to pick him up, he’s going to ask for a hug. “you don’t know?”

he shakes his head.

“but you said you wanted to help,” she accuses, and taehyung thinks she might be frowning at him.

“I do!” he says quickly, pushing himself up onto his toes only to fall back onto his heels a second later because the poor kid still doesn’t have balance. “but I’m not… I’m not a doctor. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

the woman sneers at him. it’s a weird sound that makes the five-year-old associate it more with an animal than a human. her veil swishes as she marches down the hall, her head held high and back straight. taehyung thinks she looks a bit weird when she yanks her skirts up and thuds down the stairs. he also thinks she might trip down them, but doesn’t hear the sound of her tumbling.

he brings his bottom lip between his teeth and turns his head to gaze at the door. it’s not locked. he could go back inside. and he does want to help them, he wants to figure out what’s wrong with her husband. that’s why he offered his help and it’s why he’s here. and she hasn’t told him he can’t go back into the room.

he stretches out a hand to the doorknob, having made up his mind, when the crying lady crashes through the door and smacks into him. he stumbles back and lands on his bottom, elbow nicking on the floor and a nasty scrape appearing as if by magic. the shock is enough for tears to only gather but not spill down his cheeks, nor for a whine to leave his throat. instead, he stares up at the crying lady.

she kneels before him and reaches out, hands cupping his cheeks. her hands feel really big on his small face. there are still tears in her eyes and on her cheeks but he doesn’t know if she knows she’s crying.

“go home.”

he just stares, the tingling sensation of his scrape no longer his main concern. her voice is soft and quiet. it’s the sound of a voice that hasn’t spoken yet in the morning after someone’s just woken up, or the voice of someone who hasn’t spoken in a long time, or the voice of someone who has been crying for a long time and only now decided to talk.

“go home,” she says again, and hair spills over her shoulders. “take my son with you.”

and then she’s gone in a soft, fading effect. the light cuts through her more and more until he’s staring at the door instead of her face. he likes her more than the ghost at jinyoung’s home. the ghost in jinyoung’s flat was very mean, but the lady just seems sad.

hesitantly, slowly, the five-year-old pushes himself up onto his feet, hands getting covered in dust from the floor. he wipes them slowly on his jeans as he toddles down the hall to the stairs. when he straightens his arm out completely to grab onto the railing, a small shock of pain zips up his arm and he makes a small noise of complaint. he pulls up his sleeve and spies the scrape along his elbow. it looks like an angry red and he thinks he can see a small bead of blood from one of the wounds.

he whimpers, bottom lip wobbling, and starts to make his way carefully down the stairs, keeping his fingers curled around his sleeve so he doesn’t get it dirty. he continues going down the stairs until he’s on the bottom floor and is looking out over the living room. he doesn’t know where the kitchen is, so he wanders aimlessly all around the living room, peeking through two out of the three doorways. thankfully, the second one leads him to the kitchen and he enters, standing stock still a few feet inside.

yoongi isn’t the one who notices him, but a man. he must be beom-seok, who the woman wanted yoongi to help make lunch with. but taehyung doesn’t look away from yoongi when beom-seok turns to stare at him. a small part of his mind tells him he should say thank you when beom-seok nudges yoongi and gets the boy to turn and finally spot taehyung.

he looks surprised, eyebrows raising again. he’s holding something, but taehyung can’t focus on what. “what’s wrong?”

the five-year-old awkwardly pulls his elbow up in a way that’ll allow yoongi to see the scrapes while he can still keep his sleeve clean. he whimpers when yoongi’s eyes widen and his mouth falls open the slightest bit. has it gotten worse?

“when did you do that? did you trip?”

“stop asking the kid stupid questions, yoongi,” beom-seok spits out, and it sounds a little harsh, even in taehyung’s shocked state, “and just put a plaster on it.”

the boy puts down whatever he’s holding and walks over to taehyung, gently turning the boy around. he doesn’t take the five-year-old’s hand to guide him, instead placing both hands on his shoulders and steering the child as if he were a trolley in a supermarket. luckily for the little medium, the bathroom he’s steered into is on the ground floor and has a toilet that he’s gently pushed towards to sit on.

yoongi opens the cupboard underneath the sink and pulls out a first aid kit. he kneels down on the floor when he opens it, neatly putting the stuff he doesn’t need in the lid as he searches. he ends up pulling out cotton balls, a disinfectant and plasters of several sizes.

“this is going to still a little,” he warns as he uncaps the disinfectant, pouring a little on a cotton ball. he reaches up to hold taheyung’s arm gently in his hand and dabs at the wound with the cotton ball. he tries to ignore the whine that follows and says the first thing he can think of to distract taehyung. “tell me about jinyoung-hyung.”

taehyung kicks his legs just a little bit and swallows thickly when yoongi cleans the largest scrape. “... well. um, he’s really nice. and— and he always makes sure I know what’s going on.” he voices goes quiet and small as he watches yoongi finish up. the skin around his scrape is now tinged yellow. “he asks me where I want to go and what I want to do every morning. I don’t know a lot, so I get surprises. he’s good at surprises.” his eyes follow yoongi’s hands as he starts picking up and comparing plaster sizes with his scrape. “he even promised me I could watch mark-hyung do his tattoos.”

the older boy’s attention drifts from the plasters in his hands to the five-year-old’s face for a moment. “who’s mark-hyung?”

“jaebum-hyung’s boyfriend.”

“ah.” yoongi gives a nod, eyes settling on the plasters once more until he finally finds one that looks like it’ll be big enough not to stick to any part of the wound. “and he does tattoos?”

“yes. they’re really cool.” taehyung nods this time, because it’s true. it’s fact, at this point. all of mark’s tattoos are really cool and pretty. even the ones that don’t have colours. “he says he can make them move, too. like magic. I want tattoos.”

yoongi laughs. it’s breathy and taehyung thinks he almost saw yoongi smile wide. “what would you get?”

“I don’t know.” the five-year-old swings his legs again, holding his arm out and bending it just slightly when yoongi shows him how. “bambam-hyung has a snake called banana. maybe I could get a snake. bambam-hyung says banana is really friendly and that I could meet her one day.”

“did he now.” yoongi peels back the plastic from the plaster and gently curls it around taehyung’s elbow, making sure the sticky parts get healthy skin. he then sets about using another cotton ball and a little bit of water to clean up any excess disinfectant poking out of the plaster so the young boy’s sleeve won’t get dirty. “you won’t be scared will you?”

“no!” taehyung shakes his head furiously. “because banana is nice and cute. she’s yellow and white, just like a banana! that’s why hyung named her banana.”

“hyung sounds very clever,” he says as he starts packing everything back into the first aid box, clipping the lid shut and sliding it into the cupboard under the sink. he sits back on his heels and looks over at the five-year-old, blinking when he realises that the boy’s sleeve is still pushed up.

“he’s super clever,” the smaller boy admits, letting yoongi reach forward and unravel his sleeve. he gently bends his arm, stopping when the plaster pinches his skin too much, and then just chooses to rest his hand in his lap. “I can’t wait for you to meet him.”

yoongi blinks, his own hands falling into his lap. taehyung thinks he looks surprised and confused, he doesn’t really know why. “you want me to meet bambam-hyung?”

“yes! we’re friends.” taehyung states proudly with yet another boxy grin. it’s hard to think of the boy who’d been in shock mere minutes before is now perfectly happy on top of a toilet with a plaster on his elbow. “and friends meet with their friend’s friends. that’s how you get lots of friends!”

“I see.” there’s a soft smile, and taehyung likes it. he likes it a lot. “I’m glad we’re friends, teahyung.”

“me too, gigi-hyung!”

yoongi blinks at him again, dumbfounded. then smiles a little more. it keeps growing until suddenly his gums are poking into view and it only makes taehyung grin wider himself, eyes scrunching up. he feels really happy. “come on, taetae, I think lunch might be ready.”

“food!”

taehyung jumps off the toilet and races out of the bathroom, hearing more breathy laughter behind him before footsteps follow him. they slow down when they get into the living room and spy beom-seok staring at them with a weird expression on his face. but yoongi puts his hand on taehyung’s shoulder again and taehyung still feels happy.

even if he can’t the woman’s husband, at least he has yoongi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't forget to comment on scenes you want to see!! and i'll see what i can do about them.


	6. reunion

taehyung sits on the counter in the kitchen, close to the sink, because that’s what he does when he can’t sleep. he clambers out of his bed and pulls on his psyduck slippers, and toddles into the kitchen to find something that’ll make him sleepy. back home, he used to drink milk or juice. sometimes he’d get chocolate milk if his mother remembered to buy some. it didn’t happen often, though. but he didn’t complain. there was always milk.

it’s weird, though. because he’s not wearing his slippers this time. all he’s got are socks on his feet, and his toes feel really cold. he tries to pull them up onto the counter with the rest of him so he can wrap his small fingers around them in an effort to warm them up—

“yah!”

he jumps, almost toppling off the counter. instead, he grabs the edge and drops his feet. the ground doesn’t reach up to him for a hug and he’s left staring owlishly at jinyoung, standing by the fridge. he blinks, and he wants to hug jinyoung, because he’s missed him. but he also wants to ask jinyoung to help the woman out with her husband, because he likes helping.

nothing that he wants happens, though, and he watches silently as jinyoung opens the fridge, tutting.

“taehyung, we don’t put dirty feet on the kitchen worktop,” the man says, pulling something from the fridge and closing it behind him. it looks like a carton from where taehyung’s sitting. “it’s not clean. and we have to prepare food on that. do you want to eat dirty food?” jinyoung asks, looking at him.

taehyung shakes his head.

“no, you don’t.” jinyoung grabs a glass from a cupboard above him and unscrews the lid to the carton. pink splashes into glass about halfway before it stops. “nobody wants to eat dirty food. so we don’t put our feet on the counter.”

the adult screws the lid on the carton once more and places it down, offering the glass of pink to taehyung. the five-year-old accepts it without thought and brings it to his lips even though he doesn’t know what it is. and he can’t ask, even though he wants to so badly. he tries. he tries to stop his hands from raising the glass to his lips, tries to even speak a simple _hyung_ but nothing happens. it’s almost like his body won’t let him choose.

he wants to whimper when pink fills his mouth and he swallows, but all he does is sit and watch jinyoung return the carton to the fridge. jinyoung crosses his arms and stands with his back straight in the middle kitchen. taehyung realises it isn’t jinyoung’s kitchen. it’s too big and not the right shape.

“now, taehyung, we have something important to talk about, okay?” jinyoung says, and the woman dressed in the long black dress with the veil covering her face steps into the kitchen. taehyung isn’t sure where she stepped in from. “you’re being adopted.”

by now, there’s very little pink left in the glass, and it completely vanishes by the time the woman has held her hands in front of her, stopping next to jinyoung. he wants to ask jinyoung if he’s adopting him. he puts the glass down in the sink and sits there quietly like a good boy.

he thinks jinyoung says a name, but he doesn’t hear right, like static from a tv. “—wants to adopt you,” jinyoung says and he smiles but it’s all wrong. it’s not jinyoung’s smile. “you like her house, don’t you? you came here by yourself because it’s much better than hyung’s house, right?”

taehyung wants to tell him no. he didn’t do it because he didn’t want to live at jinyoung’s house. he didn’t run away. he came because he wanted to help. he stares emotionlessly at the woman next to jinyoung.

“—has so graciously decided that she’s going to accept you into her family. you’ll be able to stay here till you grow old, now. yoongi can be your brother, now.”

and yoongi steps into the kitchen, too. his face is wrong. his face is wrong as in it’s not there. like a stretched canvas for a painting. it’s just plain white, paler than his skin, like a smudge someone wiped clean with a rubber. he stops next to the woman, who stretches out her hand and places it on his shoulder.

“your parents don’t want you anymore, you see, and since my home isn’t nice enough, you can stay here.” jinyoung isn’t smiling anymore. he doesn’t look angry, face weirdly impassive for how loaded his words are. “you can run around on creaky floorboards all day and play with yoongi and try and help —, can’t you?”

taehyung’s scared.

“I’ll tell everyone about your decision.” jinyoung sighs and shakes his head. “seokjin will be so disappointed. he was looking forward to showing you something he coloured, but since you’re not going to come with me, you won’t need to see them again, will you? such a shame. such a big shame.”

taehyung wants to cry. so he does.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“taetae!”

yoongi’s face looks blurry and panicked. but he has eyes and a nose and a mouth. his hair is messy and his hands are grasping taehyung’s arms and only then does taehyung realise his cheeks are wet and his eyes are watery and his lips are wobbling.

“hyung,” he sobs and lunges at yoongi with a little difficulty from his position. he wraps his arms tightly around yoongi’s neck and presses his face into his shoulder before he can even think about where he is, what time it is or what either of them were doing before now.

the eleven-year-old freezes but then holds the child back as tight as he can. he pulls him close and doesn’t say anything, just lets taehyung cry into his shoulder and rocks the two of them gently. taehyung feels a little less scared.

“hyung, you—” it’s difficult to talk, his voice muffled, nose running. it’s nice when yoongi doesn’t shush him, but just lets him try and talk through the constant sniffling and wobbling voice. he’s not really sure what he’s trying to say anyway, and decides that crying might be better.

“it’s alright, taetae,” yoongi murmurs and it’s close to his ear and so soothing. he tries to quiet down his crying so he can hear, but it’s a lot harder than he thought it would be. “hyung’s here, you’re not alone.”

taehyung doesn’t really understand how yoongi managed to hit the nail on the head. hearing the older boy say the words out loud makes him tremble and cling tighter. it takes him ten more minutes to calm down, which ends in yoongi grabbing tissues from the kitchen as quickly as possible and dabbing at the five-year-old’s face, while said little boy clings to his sleeve with one hand as tight as he possibly can.

there’s three scrunched up tissues on the coffee table by the time taehyung’s face is dry, and the two are curled around each other on the sofa. taehyung has gripped yoongi’s shirt in both of his fists, knuckles white with the strain, and he hasn’t stopped trembling.

“I want to go home, hyung,” he whispers, turning his head and pressing his face into yoongi’s chest. “I want to go home.”

“I know, taetae, I know.” there’s a warm hand rubbing up and done his back gently and it just makes taehyung cling tighter. “hyung will make sure you get home.”

with the terrifying dream forcing him to feel unease at everything in the house, taehyung tries to keep as close to yoongi as he possibly could. and it’s easy for a while, because the two of them stay on the sofa that taehyung had fallen asleep on after lunch and they don’t do much. yoongi did offer to turn the tv on, but with the five-year-old’s lack of enthusiasm, he decided against it. instead, the two just stay curled up and content in each other’s presence. yoongi’s kind enough that he even lets taehyung toddle alone when he goes to the bathroom.

but then the woman has yoongi doing chores that she doesn’t let taehyung toddle after him during.

and all taehyung can think is that it’s really mean of the woman. can’t she see that he doesn’t feel okay? that he’s sad? doesn’t she care that yoongi makes him feel a little better and safer? the answer is quite obviously no, to all of them. because when the boy timidly tugs on her black dress and fiddles with his fingers, asking her if he can watch yoongi clean the kitchen — which isn’t too big of a thing to ask, he doesn’t think — she just smiles and ruffles his hair.

“no, child. I don’t want you distracting him more than he already seems to be.” she clasps both of her hands in front of her and taehyung bits the inside of his cheek to keep his bottom lip from wobbling. “you’d just get in the way, anyway. and you’re much too young to help out and do a good job at cleaning. no, you’ll just have to go back to yoongi’s room and wait for him there, okay? when he’s finished all his chores, I’ll send him to you. okay?”

taehyung doesn’t really have much he can argue against her, because she’s the adult here. and he knows that what an adult says goes. so he just nods and tries not to look too sad as he turns around and toddles slowly up the stairs.

cleaning the kitchen can’t be that important a job, he thinks. it can’t be that difficult, either. he’s five! he’s not a baby anymore, he could help out. and he has small hands, he thinks, looking down at them when he reaches the top of the stairs. they could help reach places that yoongi couldn’t. and he knows not to try and drink any of the stuff you use for cleaning. he wouldn’t get in the way, he knows it. he wants to say all of this to her.

yoongi’s bedroom is exactly how the two left it. almost.

the lady from before sits on yoongi’s bed. her shoulders are slouched and her hair hangs in front of her face. taehyung doesn’t think she’s crying this time, but there’s something very sad about her nonetheless. he looks behind himself, checking that the hall is indeed empty except for him, and then steps inside and closes the door, as if he’s on some kind of mission. but he’s allowed to be in yoongi’s room. hell, he was sent to yoongi’s room, so he doesn’t need to worry.

the lady hasn’t looked at him yet. she should know she’s not alone by now, at least. taehyung wasn’t exactly quiet when he closed the door and he always gets this weird feeling when someone stares at him for too long. but there’s nothing. licking his lips, he wanders closer and very gently puts a hand on her arm. or tries to.

the hand goes through her, making him yank it back as quickly as he can, eyes wide. the lady lifts her head and even if she isn’t crying, there are tear marks down her cheeks. her eyes look a little puffy, and taehyung feels even sadder just looking at her.

“you’re going home,” she says. her voice is the same as it was earlier in the day, still raspy. it takes him a moment to realise what she’s saying, and when he does, he tugs on his fingers uncertainly. “you’re going home.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers, because that’s all he can manage right now.

she’s staring him right in the eye. she reaches out with one of her hands and cups his cheek, palm surprisingly solid against his skin. there is nothing malicious about her expression, about the way she looks at him. it’s almost soft, he thinks, and it makes him tug at his own fingers harder.

“you’re going home,” she says again, like she’s trying to sooth him, like she’s reassuring him that he can leave after a long day. there’s a sad smile on her face. it looks weird. people shouldn’t be able to smile when they’re sad, right? “please, take my son with you.”

taehyung forces himself to let go of his fingers and breathes sharply through his nose. he doesn’t move away from the hand when she starts to stroke his cheek with her thumb. “what— what son?”

there’s a fondness on her face that he thinks only a mother could have. a caring mother, mind you. a nice mother. a mother who cares for the health of her children and, ultimately, for others she sees wandering around discovering the world at their own pace. something feels warm in his chest and he wants to just crawl onto her lap and maybe stay there for a few hours until he feels better. and maybe, if he was older, he’d think it worrying that he feels more comfort and safety in somebody else’s mother’s presence than his own. but because he’s five, all he’s thinking about is how much he wants a hug right now.

“my son,” the lady says. her other hand comes up to cup his other cheek and she smiles wider and sadder. it still doesn’t make too much sense to taehyung. “he is good and he can do good.” she leans closer and tilts his head, softly pressing a kiss to his forehead.

taehyung watches her with wide eyes, lips parted and mouth open like he does when he loses himself in concentration sometimes.

she whispers, “save my son.”

the wall that slowly drifts into focus isn’t nearly as interesting as the lady’s face, even if he wanted her to stop smiling because it didn’t make him feel good. not like how smiles usually make him feel. he blinks and reaches out to move his hands in the space where she once was, not entirely understanding how she could be there one moment and then gone the next. twisting this way and that, he quickly looks around yoongi’s bedroom until he sees the door is open. he definitely closed it when he came in, and even so, the woman told him he couldn’t help out in the kitchen, but she didn’t really say he couldn’t go elsewhere. not really. she just asked him to stay in yoongi’s room. she didn’t ask very nicely, but still.

his socked feet make muted thuds as he walks down the hall towards the stairs. his elbow still stings a little under the plaster but it’s okay. it’s taken care of. so he concentrates on walking up the stairs and ignoring the lack of sound anywhere else in the house. because he is a floor above, you see, and that means that he’s not going to hear people downstairs. but he thinks about yoongi cleaning the kitchen and doesn’t think much else.

the lady is waiting for him halfway down the hall. she smiles when she sees him and turns around, walking off. in three steps she vanishes completely once more and the second door on the left clicks open several inches.

and there’s kim taehyung, a five-year-old medium, standing at the top of the second set of stairs inside an old house owned by someone he’s never met with the idea to try and help as much as he can. though he can’t do much. he can’t do much of anything, really. he’s a kid. and he knows that, of course he knows, but if you help someone, they’re going to want to help you back in the future, right? and if everyone’s helping everyone else then nobody would have to worry about being stuck. very simple logic, you see.

so, taehyung walks forward with the intention of pushing the door open wider and stepping inside. he doesn’t know what he’s going to do inside, but the nice lady wants him there, wants him to see the ill man again. and he likes her. so he will.

the door opens wider and a body pushes through, forcing him to stop in his tracks. beom-seok stares down at him in surprise for a second before it melts into annoyance. he closes the door behind him without taking his eyes off of taehyung. the five-year-old swallows and takes a small step back without thinking about it. beom-seok hasn’t _done_ anything, technically, that could be considered reason enough to put the child at unease, but it feels like beom-seok doesn’t need a reason.

“what are you doing here?” beom-seok says, crossing his arms over his chest.

taehyung darts his attention to the door behind the man momentarily and swallows nervously at the narrowed eyes he’s met with.

“you were told to stay in yoongi’s room,” beom-seok sneers and walks forward. he frees his hands and starts shooing at taehyung but never actually touches him. “there’s nothing for you to do up here.”

“but—”

“I don’t care,” beom-seok says sharply and makes a forceful shooing motion, going so far as to point jerkily behind taehyung towards the stairs. “you’re to stay in yoongi’s room. yoongi’s. room. you got that?”

taehyung’s scared for the second time that day. he nods quickly and spins on the balls of his feet, almost tripping as one of his socks get caught on the wooden floor. he doesn’t land on the floor but his face is hot and his heart is pounding and he doesn’t like it. he really doesn’t like it, doesn’t like beom-seok, doesn’t like this house. he wants to find yoongi and leave. he wants to take yoongi to meet jinyoung and kunpimook and seokjin.

he wants to go home.

when taehyung reaches the bottom of the stairs, he starts for yoongi’s room without even thinking. but he halts halfway there and looks behind him, staring at the empty stairs. beom-seok hasn’t followed him down. beom-seok is still upstairs and has no idea where taehyung actually is. beom-seok won’t know if taehyung chooses, instead, to creep over to the stairs and hide in the small gap between them and the wall, ready to sneak back up the stairs and into the ill man’s room once the coast is clear.

being five means that registering the passage of time is hard, and actually knowing how long a minute is even harder, so the small boy has no idea how long he’s been waiting for beom-seok to come down. all he does know, is that it takes long enough for him to get so nervous that when the relief at seeing the man tread loudly down the stairs is noticeable. beom-seok walks down the hall and sends a look to yoongi’s bedroom door — a look taehyung really doesn’t like and doesn’t want to ever see again — before he disappears to the first floor.

taehyung takes this opportunity and squeezes out of the gap, crawling on all fours up the stairs for greater speed, determination set into his face. the idea of getting caught a second time by beom-seok might scare him to death but the lady wanted him to go to see the ill man again. and taehyung likes her.

this time, he wastes no time to jog up to the door, pulling it open and pushing it closed in the blink of an eye. he stares at his own hand clasped around the door handle, breathing just a little erratic because he’s still so scared and nervous and uncomfortable. but he’s doing this. as a favour to the lady, he thinks, letting go of the handle and turning around to face the room. she’s a lot nicer to him than the others. so she deserves to be treated nicely, too.

and she’s standing right there. beside the bed, hunched over it just a little. from where he’s standing, taehyung thinks he sees one of her hands cupping the man’s cheek, the other pressing against the mattress close to his shoulder. the man isn’t looking at her, instead he seems to be attempting to push himself up into a position that will allow him to see who’s entered his room this time.

taehyung blinks and catches his gaze, holding it even when the lady moves and he wants to look at her. the man slumps back against the bed, eyes closing slightly. taehyung wonders if he’s happy it’s the five-year-old boy he’s never actually met before standing in his room and not someone else.

the room is just as dim as it was the last time he was in here, with the curtains drawn and the window closed. the air’s a little musty and taehyung thinks he can smell something a little weird, but trying to air it out would mean probably running back into beom-seok, and he really doesn’t want that.

the man doesn’t say anything, just watches taehyung stand there. and now taehyung is nervous and doesn’t know why he’s here, because the lady might have been telling him to come here, or she might have just wanted to visit here and he decided to tag along uninvited. he should give the man a reason as to why he’s here. it’d be rude to just turn around and leave. really rude, and he wasn’t brought up to be rude.

the lady is looking softly at the man in the bed, and she reaches out to gently run the backs of her fingers along his cheek. the man in the bed starts just as softly.

taehyung’s not really sure why he says it, because it isn’t good manners. but watching the lady be tender shoves something inside of him, he thinks. “I don’t like the woman who lives here.”

the man looks at him. he shuffles about in bed a little, pushing up his pillow enough that he can rest comfortably at an angle, making it easier for him and the boy to see each other without having to get too close. “I don’t, either.”

the man’s voice isn’t pleasant to listen to, and taehyung thinks it might not be pleasant to talk with, either. “but you married her.”

there’s a beat of silence where the man sighs loudly and closes his eyes for a minute, almost like he’s thinking hard. “she’s not my wife.”

“I don’t understand,” the boy mumbles, fiddling with the hem of his top to stop himself from biting at his lips. yoongi told him not to do it.

“I mean that’s not the spirit that I fell in love with,” the man says, hands resting limply in his lap. “that’s not my wife’s soul.”

taehyung stares at the lady who’s covered her mouth with her hands, fresh tears cascading down her cheeks. but she looks happy, and he doesn’t really understand why. “you mean,” he says, looking back at the man, “she’s changed?”

he doesn’t get a nod or a shake of the head as a response. instead, the man explains, “she’s possessed.”

when taehyung says nothing, fingers stilling in their fidgeting for just a moment, the man takes this as the boy not understanding, and adds, “another spirit is inside of her, controlling her. she’s not my wife anymore.”

“oh,” is all the five-year-old manages for a moment, looking thoughtful and just a little lost with the slight frown to his face. he looks away from the man to the lady again, who doesn’t bother wiping her face when she falls to her knees beside the bed, reaching out to take one of the man’s hands in her own. “she, um. spirits can do that?”

“only bad spirits.” the man’s voice is a little shaky, whether that’s because he’s ill or the lady is holding his hand taehyung doesn’t know. “bad spirits that don’t have a body of their own.”

he’s already feeling weird, because if bad spirits can come and take people’s bodies for themselves, are any of them safe? could the woman decide she doesn’t like the black dress anymore and decide that she wants taehyung’s body instead, to go back as him with jinyoung and live his life for him? does it work like that? what would jinyoung think if he knew taehyung was trying to help a bad spirit? taehyung feels like crying.

“I think she’s using me.”

the boy looks up and blinks through stinging eyes at the man in the bed. the lady rests her head on the mattress close to the man’s thighs. the man is staring straight at him. “I think she needs me to live. I feel weaker every time she’s in here.”

and this is too much now. this is way too much for a five-year-old boy who can see ghosts and doesn’t really understand too much of how everything works except enough that even in his realm of life this isn’t good and this is bad and he should get out of here as quickly as he possibly can. so that’s exactly what he does; he turns around and yanks the bedroom door open, running down the hall and down the stairs.

the door to the man’s bedroom is open but taehyung doesn’t care. he’s not quiet running down the stairs or down the hall either. he runs past yoongi’s bedroom door, still closed, and makes his way down the second flight of stairs. the woman said that yoongi was cleaning the kitchen, so that’s where he’s going to find yoongi and beg the older boy to help take him home because he’s scared and just wants to go home.

instead of finding yoongi in the kitchen, beom-seok is pulling something out of the fridge. it’s unlucky, really, because from where he’s standing, there’s no way he doesn’t see taehyung. a minute of silence filled with stares pass, beom-seok looking too caught in surprise to see taehyung down there and not in yoongi’s room to do much, and taehyung much too scared to want to try something. maybe beom-seok will take him to see yoongi since he can see just how upset the five-year-old is.

no such luck.

“I thought we said you were supposed to stay in yoongi’s room until we said otherwise,” beom-seok starts slowly, words picking up speed once the surprise wears off. the familiar frown is once more on his face, the fridge door now shut, and taehyung gets a sinking feeling that he’s not going to get the help he wants. “do you always disobey your elders?”

taehyung shakes his head. “n-no, I—”

“you’re being incredibly bad right now, do you know that?” beom-seok walks towards him and puts his hands on his hips. “do you even have an excuse as to why you’re out of yoongi’s room?”

the fear increases in the small child and he chews on his tongue, unable to stop his nervous habit from breaking out. the silence doesn’t please beom-seok, who huffs very loudly and makes taehyung wince.

“I didn’t think so. you’re being bad and you don’t even have a flimsy reason why.” he shoots out a hand, grasping taehyung by his arm and none-too-gently starts dragging the little boy out of the kitchen and across the living room. “you’re in trouble.”

you can’t really blame the small boy from not fighting against beom-seok’s strong hold. he’s still very scared and feels more like a child now than he ever has before. he feels small and powerless, nervous and uncomfortable and just wants to go home. maybe jinyoung will let him sleep in his bed with him. jinyoung will see how scared he is and what he wants and will give him everything. he will. but now isn’t the time or place for that. beom-seok is taking him to the woman, he knows now, spying her dress before he sees her veil covered face.

“beom-seok?” she asks, and she sounds irritated. it makes taehyung shrink where he stands when the two of them finally stop, head ducking once the woman looks at him. “why have you brought him?”

“he rushed into the kitchen,” beom-seok says. taehyung expects him to sound smug, but the annoyance from before is still there. “and I found him on the third floor of the house twenty minutes ago.”

the woman stares at taehyung. he doesn’t need to see her face to know that there isn’t a happy expression painted on it. she shifts out of the chair she was sat in, the movement making taehyung quickly look away nervously, which allows him to look around briefly at where he is. it looks like a small library-come-office that he sees in movies a lot. ones filled with books that the owner doesn’t let anyone other than them read because they hold secrets or something. the woman steps in front of him and crouches down enough that the two of them are almost the same height.

“why didn’t you wait in yoongi’s room like I told you to?”

her voice is sickly sweet and makes the five-year-old feel sick, wanting nothing more than to down a glass of water or wander over to the bathroom and sit close to the toilet in preparation. he keeps up his silence by not answering her but feels unable to look away from her hidden face. nerves bubble up at the idea of not acknowledging her at all. he feels it would end worse than if he just stays quiet.

“child,” she snaps, and even though he’s watching her he jumps where he stands, arm tugging a little in beom-seok’s grip. “I’m talking to you. why didn’t you wait in yoongi’s room like I told you to?”

taehyung doesn’t say anything.

the woman lets out a large huff and stands straight, hands clasped in front of her. taehyung thinks that she’s pursing her lips at him. “Since you haven’t been helpful at all this afternoon and can’t seem to follow orders at all, I think you should be grounded to yoongi’s room without dinner and we’ll see if you deserve breakfast when you wake up.”

she sits down once more, turning away from the both of them, and beom-seok tightens his grip on taehyung’s arm. the man drags the boy away from the library-come-office and through the living room again, up the stairs and into yoongi’s room. he pushes taehyung inside a little more forceful than necessary, making him stumble. before he can look at beom-seok, the door slams closed behind him loudly and he thinks that maybe it locks. isn’t that what happens in movies? when the kids misbehave, adults lock them in a room somewhere so they won’t go anywhere?

he’s still a scared little five-year-old, so he moves to the wall and turn the lights on. it’s not really dark enough to need the lights on, but he doesn’t want to be caught out in darkness, no matter where he is. he really doesn’t like the dark. in the dark, monsters can come up and visit him, like the one that kept insulting him back at jinyoung’s home, and the one that kept giving him nightmares until he had to crawl into bed with jinyoung because he didn’t feel safe. no, the darkness isn’t nice, and he doesn’t want it.

crawling onto yoongi’s bed, he sits against the headboard and brings his knees up close to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. it can’t be too long before yoongi comes back to his room, right? she probably got him to clean something else, maybe one of the bathrooms. it can’t take this long to clean a kitchen to her standards, right? he chews on the corner of his bottom lip and resists the urge to rock back and forth on the bed. everything’s fine. yoongi will come back soon and he’ll ask him for hugs, and he’ll get hugs, and yoongi will help take him home.

he remembers what yoongi told him, about thinking of jinyoung and seokjin. seokjin who stayed with him when he cried and drew the both of them and coloured in as many pictures as he could to give to taehyung so he could put them up in his bedroom when he got home. jinyoung who let him nap on him while he read, who gave him nice dreams and took him out into the world and let him have sweet breakfasts as many times as cereal was poured into bowls. and yugyeom. he can’t forget yugyeom. because yugyeom always tells jokes and chases him and seokjin around and always shows them little tricks and gentle pranks on jinyoung that ends with the four of them grinning.

he thinks about the three of them, and wonders about kunpimook’s snake, about mark’s tattoos, about jaebum’s plants. he thinks about yoongi meeting them all and hanging out with them. he thinks about the kindergarten school he used to go to, and wonders if he’ll ever have to go to school when he’s with jinyoung. he thinks about his parents and his brother and wonders if he’ll go back to them when he runs away from here.

he wants to run away from here.

there’s a creak outside the room and taehyung jumps. he hasn’t changed his position in all the time he’s been thinking and daydreaming, and he really doesn’t have a good grasp on time because it’s dark outside yoongi’s bedroom window. he can’t focus on it. he’s staring at the bedroom door, holding his breath, ready to launch at yoongi when he enters and ask the older boy if he’ll run away with him.

the creaking gets louder until it’s right outside the door, and then continues on and goes down the hall.

taehyung deflates, breathing out deeply and loudly. he can’t stop the downturn to his lips and the hope dying in his chest. he wants yoongi to come back really badly. he misses his friend, and he doesn’t think that the woman is doing him any good. he’s been gone for hours now — taehyung is pretty sure he’s got that right — and what if she never gave him a break? what if he’s tired or hungry?

biting at his bottom lip again and again, the five-year-old clambers off the bed and makes his way to the bedroom door. he turns the handle and slowly opens it, happy that it wasn’t locked, and pokes his head out. the hallway is empty and dark. he doesn’t want to go out, wants to stay in the sliver of light that is cast by the open bedroom door. but he’s got to find yoongi, he needs to make sure that he’s okay.

taking a deep breath, he opens the door wider and walks out. the floor creaks a little under his feet, not as much from before when whoever walked down here, but it’s enough to make him scared that he’ll get caught. he walks down the stairs as quickly as he can, looking around wildly at the dark living room. he creeps over to the kitchen and the bathroom but finds no sign of anybody. no beom-seok, no woman, no yoongi. he’s kind of lost, especially in the little light inside the house, so he’s not sure how he manages to find himself drawn towards a sudden light cast on the floor.

he stops in the doorway of the library-come-office from before. his eyes widen. with a small, alert squeak he runs forward and drops to his knees, wincing at the shock that zips up the bone, placing his hands on yoongi’s shoulder and giving a soft shove.

“hyung?”

yoongi’s lying face-down, curled up just a little, body limp and eyes closed. his skin looks pale and feels clammy. taehyung makes a face and wipes his hands on his jeans when he touches the other boy’s face. he doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know if he goes to the woman if she’ll help. he doesn’t think she will. he doesn’t think she’ll believe him. but he doesn’t know how to contact jinyoung. he’s lost.

“ah, child. you’ve found your friend.”

taehyung whips his head up and, when he finds no-one in front of him, he looks over his shoulder. the woman stands behind him while he catches just a little of beom-seok closing the door behind her. well. he looks slowly back up at the woman, at the veil that covers her face, and swallows loudly.

“it’s nice of you to come and check on yoongi, isn’t it?” she says and taehyung shifts closer until he’s pressed as tightly against yoongi’s limp form as he can. “you were worried about him, weren’t you? about cleaning a big nasty kitchen with all the horrible dirt.”

on top of feeling unsafe and uncomfortable, taehyung can’t help but feel like she’s mocking him, now, talking to him as if he doesn’t understand half of the korean language already. as if he’s a baby who can’t speak. he’s five, he understands things. that’s why he knows that the woman isn’t a good person, and the sooner he and yoongi get out of her presence, the better.

“but you don’t have to worry. he’s been with me the whole time.” and taehyung thinks she’s smiling. “I made sure he had supervision all the time.”

goosebumps rise all over his body, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end when the woman raises her hands to grasp her veil, pulling it up and resting it over her head, showing her face. the sound of a piercing scream runs through the five-year-old’s body, the agony and sadness the sound held giving way to sobs that, even though muffled, make taehyung think that someone just watched somebody else die in front of their eyes. but he can’t think about that now.

the woman’s face is a nightmare.

she grins at him wide. so wide. teeth an impossibility of jagged edges and gaps, not the colour teeth should be. taehyung can’t look away, can’t turn, and it scares him even more that he’s stuck there, stuck in fear. the only thing he can do is reach out and pat blindly along the floor until he grasps yoongi’s limp hand tight enough to bruise.

“oh, isn’t that a shame,” the woman says. she can’t be a woman, taehyung thinks, women don’t _look like that_. “I think my husband just died. seems like your help didn’t do much after all.”

he wants to say that it’s all her fault, that she’s the reason he’s dead. but she’s really scary, she’s all of the nightmares he’s ever had right there and right in front of him. she’s touched him and she’s done something to yoongi, and the lady is still sobbing several stories above them. because he knows it’s the lady. he knows now. the lady was the man’s husband. the woman in front of him is something he doesn’t really understand, something he doesn’t know if he’ll ever understand.

“but you can still help, you know,” she says, and she starts walking slowly towards the two of them. “you can help by taking his place, _kim taehyung_.”

the five-year-old feels like he’s made of ice. she knows his name. the woman knows his name and she wants to suck the life out of him or control his body or make him a ghost. and he doesn’t want that. he wants to live so badly. he wants jinyoung and seokjin and yoongi and yugyeom. he wants to meet banana and have mark tattoo him and feed jaebum’s plants with him again. tears are pouring down his cheeks and his breath is hiccuping, the lady is still crying and the woman before him is laughing, he thinks, and it’s all horrible and a nightmare—

there’s a crash, a shout, and then the sound of splintering wood.

taehyung flinches and curls around yoongi still laying on the floor. someone grabs him and he shouts, yells for yoongi, to be let go, for jinyoung. he squirms and thrashes and tries to bite the hands that are holding him. but the someone doesn’t drop him. the someone turns him around and looks at him at wild eyes and taehyung stares back, covered in tears and snot, to see yugyeom’s frazzled hair in front of him.

he whimpers, face crumpling and immediately clings as tightly as he can. yugyeom moves past the woman and past the chaos that is the living room that must have been what made the crash noise from before. and taehyung’s really happy that yugyeom’s here, because that means he’ll be able to see seokjin soon, and jinyoung, and then yoongi can meet—

“yoongi-hyung!” he yells, squirming once more in yugyeom’s arms.

“hey— hey, taehyung, what—”

“we need to take yoongi-hyung! please, save yoongi-hyung!”

yugyeom tries to calm him down, tries to hold him close so he can’t squirm too much and fall out of the hedge witch’s arms. “okay. okay— we’ll save yoongi. we’ll get him. don’t worry, taehyung, we’ll save him.”

taehyung spies someone darting into the room with the woman and yoongi so he calms down, goes limp, but doesn’t stop staring. even when the two of them are outside and in the fresh air, stopping many feet away from the house, sitting on the curb, he keeps watching the house. the front of it has a big hole in it, now, and there are cracks going all the way up to the roof. it’s minutes of him being cradled in yugyeom’s lap, a large hand on the back of his head and his chin resting on the witch’s shoulder, before someone comes out of the house holding a smaller body close to them.

jackson gently lays yoongi down on the floor gently and immediately starts checking him over, doing things that taehyung’s not entirely sure what they are. but he lets his eyes droop because he’s suddenly so tired, so very tired, after being scared and uncomfortable and not feeling safe for so long.

the last thing he remembers is seeing jackson glowing faintly as he presses a hand to yoongi’s forehead gently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter will be dealing with yoongi getting used to things and _school_ , which i'm sure a lot of you have been waiting a while for, lmao.
> 
> edit: if i were going to open writing commissions, would you guys be interested??

**Author's Note:**

> hmu or scream at me over on [tumblr](http://www.ximshoutingmaydayx.tumblr.com).


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